Neutrality
by Whiterun
Summary: With the Empire and Stormcloaks taking advantage of the temporary treaty, Silver, the Dragonborn, flees from their aggressive acts to bring her on their side. In an attempt to temporarily hide, she offers Brynjolf riches in exchange for him accompanying her to the bottom of a Dwemer ruin in search of a Word.
1. Chapter 1

**Silver**

"This is not my war," the Dragonborn responded coldly to the rebellion leader, "If I joined your cause, it would go against everything your followers believe they're fighting for."

Ulfric gave a hollow laugh in response. "We fight for the freedom of Skyrim. Skyrim is home to the Nords. The rest will come, but for now we focus on the Empire."

Putting her elbows on the table, leaning forward, the Dragonborn placed her chin on top of her interlaced fingers. "Ulfric, if I had a single septim for each time I heard 'Skyrim is for the Nords', I would be rolling in coin." There was no sign of playfulness in her tone as she spoke. Narrowing her eyes she continued, "Tell me, Ulfric Stormcloak, leader of the Stormcloak rebellion, do you know my name and all that accompanies it?"

Again, he laughed. "Silver, the Dragonborn. Nothing else matters, unless you add Stormcloak soldier to it."

In one fluid motion, she stood from the table, looking down at him. His expression didn't change. His brows were knitted together in deep concentration, and his eyes never betraying his serious demeanor, "I do not need you to complete my army. The attack on Whiterun will commence with, or without, you. But, with you there, we are guaranteed victory."

She placed a hand on the palace doors, stopping to look over her shoulder at him before leaving the Palace of the Kings. Nearly hidden by hair, one eye shined through to focus on him as she spoke, "Then go ahead. I will be watching from the plains as you kill many more innocents."

She pressed her hand into the door as Ulfric stood abruptly from the table. The sound of solid wood hitting stone echoed in the chamber, "I believe I made it clear that you wouldn't have a choice in joining."

The hairs on her neck bristled at his threat, but her choice did not waver. She turned to face him once more, shoulders tense as she braced herself for physical combat. "Ulfric, you cannot beat me," Silver warned. A moment too late, she noticed the slight movement in his shoulders, followed by his jaw tensing.

" _FUS RO DAH!"_

" _TIID KLO UL!"_

In the small amount of time that Silver put the world on pause, she drank an invisibility potion and exited the castle. As fast as she could, she sprinted to the stables at the end of Windhelm's bridge. Pulling the reins of her collected steed, Silver directed her horse to the snowy, beaten path that would lead her to Riften. Her heart hammered from the adrenaline, and her mind raced with the rage she had withheld from him. She would not be commanded to join, she thought furiously.

The dragons were a prominent concern to all of Tamriel, and as a result, the war had reached a temporary peace treaty. _Temporary._ Silver's goal had been to learn as many shouts as she could from deep within the cold depths of the Nordic crypts. Before her search had started, the Greybeards had blessed her with books to teach her the language of the _dovah_.

Her travels brought her to every corner of Skyrim, where many regarded her as a hero, or errand-runner. As a result, they tried to bestow as many titles on her as possible in hopes of gaining her favor. Silver let them grovel at her feet, most times, begging for her to acknowledge them. Other times, she ignored them as best she could without rubbing powerful people the wrong way. The last thing she wanted to do was increase her number of enemies.

Before Windhelm disappeared over the hill, she looked back at the snowy fortress once more. Her neck strained to keep it in view, as she tried to remain steady on the horse. She had left in such a hurry, that she was riding without a saddle. The horse's hooves pounded the snow-dusted path as they raced to get as far away from the city as possible. The North was cold, but she had always enjoyed her visits to the frozen portion of Skyrim. Before turning away, she saw Windhelm's doors open to the bridge and several horses with their riders emerged from the dim glow of city lanterns.

They were coming for her.

When the treaty was signed, Ulfric and Tullius were torn away from one another, like rivaling toddlers. Six months had passed since then, and they hungered for the other's throat like starved wolves. Tullius, in an attempt to try and intimidate Ulfric, had warned Ulfric that the Dragonborn was on the Empire's side. Thus, if Ulfric attacked, he would be matched against his treacherous voice, thus he should surrender to the Empire. Ulfric, in response, had put a bounty on her capture in the holds that supported him. Eventually, he learned the truth and began trying to coax her into joining him. Ulfric tried favors, gifts, promise of land and titles, gold, a home in the Palace of the Kings, and a place by his side in battle. All that he had to offer made Silver dislike him a little bit more with each attempt. Her dislike had slowly grown into contempt.

What had brought her to Windhelm was the alchemy shop. In one of the crypts, she had found the White Phial. Nurelion had been anxiously searching for it in his dying days. She had forgotten all about Ulfric, Tullius, and their war games. After she delivered it, she visited the inn and paid for a room. Four city guards met her as she was enjoying her meal and escorted her to the palace where Ulfric expected her.

Before Tullius had roped her into the middle of the argument, Ulfric had welcomed her multiple times. He had said, "Dragonborn, you are welcome into my ranks. While you decide, you are free to come and go as you please in Windhelm. However, if you become part of the Empire, I will have you murdered where you stand."

His threat was loud and clear, she thought. What had caused the drastic change? Ulfric was not the type of man to use his wits outside of the war games that he and Tullius loved so. In conversation, he enjoyed a good banter, but otherwise, he never showed ulterior motives and his words were straightforward. It was a quality that Silver had admired in another time. As she became more involved in vanquishing dragons, her thoughts had turned away from the war. In fact, the Greybeards had done all that they could to shield her from news of the war while she learned the dragon's language.

 _Perhaps I will join a side… But this war does not have a place in Skyrim with dragons looming on the horizon. Each day that passes is another Alduin uses to resurrect a lackey._

Her fingers were numbing, despite her gloves, and even with her scarf, she felt her cheeks and ears losing feeling. The ride was cold and the temperature was still dropping. With a blizzard imminent, Silver didn't expect the soldiers to follow. Riding as hard as she could, she hoped to make it to Riften in less than three days.

Once in Riften, she planned to meet with Brynjolf and disappear from Skyrim for a time. Tullius and Ulfric could use the time to stop pestering her with their hopes of her joining their ranks, and she could amass more valuables to fund her new for new ingredients and armor materials. She did not worry for the safety of the holds as they were becoming more capable of defending against the dragon attacks that were becoming more common. Alduin had not shown himself since she faced him at the Throat of the World and learned Dragonrend.

Her time riding blended together despite the two rests she had taken. In her anxiousness to arrive, she had ridden her horse as she hard as she could. Poor beast, she thought with a sad smile. She gave his neck a gentle path and whispered encouragement along with promises of treats. Dropping the horse off at the stables, Silver adjusted her scarf to cover her face and hair. The Jarls and some guards knew what she looked like, but she had managed to keep a secret from most commonfolk. There was still talk of the Dragonborn being a Nord.

Riften never changed, and it made Silver heave a sigh of relief. Mjoll still complained about the thriving Thieves Guild. A few members of said guild were wandering the streets, trying to find easy pockets to slip their fingers into. Folks whispered Maven's name after they checked their surroundings two, three, or four times. Silver wasted no time in heading to the Ratways. Every second mattered in making sure Ulfric's men did not catch up with her.

Silver slipped through the grungy, squeaking doors to the underground pathways leading to the Ragged Flaggon, where many members sat sharing stories over Black-Briar mead. At a table with Delvin, Vex, and Sapphire, Brynjolf sat, listening to Delvin tell one of his old stories for the hundredth time. Each occupant, besides Delvin, took turns mocking the old man when his gaze turned away from them. Silver waited for the story to conclude before approaching the table.

"Well, if it isn't the prestigious stranger," Vex spoke smoothly with a smirk before pressing a glass bottle to her lips.

"Aye, lass. What brings you here?" Brynjolf asked as he finished the remainder in his tankard.

Silver flashed a small smile at the crowd and nodded at Brynjolf, "I have business with you. I'd like to speak in private."

Brynjolf showed no signs of hesitation or frustration at her request. He stood, exchanged a few quiet words with Delvin, and followed Silver toward the door she had come from. She leaned her back against the door to stop someone from entering as a precaution. Closing her eyes, she used a detect life spell with her left hand, making sure that there were no eavesdroppers, something Vex was famous for. When she was satisfied with the lack of presence within earshot, Silver began.

"Will you travel with me for a short time?" Always straight to the point, she was.

For a moment, he was silent, leaning against a stone pillar protruding from the wall, nearby the door. Brynjolf crossed his arms, his brows knitted together as he focused on what she was asking of him. Very rarely had she ever seen him leave Riften and they had only fought together when they were pursuing Mercer.

"I'll have to let Karliah know. You have the coin for mercenaries, and I know that you have a few who have sworn their lives to your protection, yet you're asking me to travel with you? Why are you asking me, Silver?"

She responded immediately, "We have a similar fighting style and I don't think I could find a better companion for all the sneaking I do. We'll be going into a Dwemer ruin. I would expect us to be gone for at least one month and you will return with more gold than your pockets can hold." Bribery, it always worked on a thief.

The small smile he had the moment she mentioned wealth showed her that his favor had been won. "I could always use some more coin," he reasoned.

"I'll be waiting at the stables outside of Riften tomorrow morning just as the sun is rising. We'll be heading toward Markarth." Silver turned and left him to his business before they would depart the following day.

Emerging from the Ratways, Silver walked the short distance to the apothecary, Elgrim's Elixirs. The old couple greeted her with harsh words until she dropped a large bag of coin and jewels on the countertop.

"Feel free to count and make sure it adds up. I'll buy your whole stock," Silver demanded.

Hafjorg placed the ingredients on the table while Elgrim poured the coin purse out and began counting it out. Silver left with a bag full of ingredients, and the couple didn't mention the extra coin and gems Silver had given them for the trouble of clearing them out.

This time slipping in through the secret entrance to the Thieves Guild hideout in the cemetery, Silver returned to the Cistern, where an alchemy table resided. The Bee and Barb didn't have one she could use, and the guild was what she considered home when she did visit on the odd occasion. She also had a free bed with them. Still, when she had visited Riften, she typically spent her nights at the inn. It was the first time she had seen Brynjolf in nearly a year.

At the table, she made several potions and poisons for the trip. In the Cistern, the only way time could be told was using the sunlight that filtered through the opening on the ceiling. As she worked, the sunlight faded into darkness, which then slowly turned into the bluish-pink indicating the hour or so before dawn.

Sleep didn't grace her with its presence, that evening. Instead, she had charted the map, and organized the supplies. When the light started changing, Silver left to prepare the horses for the long journey. The sky was beginning to fold in the colors of daylight when she had finished packing her horse's bags. As she closed the final buckle on the saddlebag, Brynjolf made himself known to her with his voice. He was leaning against a wall with his arms crossed, looking as if he had been there all night.

"Are we ready?"

Silver flashed him a smile before mounting her steed. "If you are," she said.

In response, he mounted his horse and they started on the path toward the Reach. It would be a long journey from the Rift, but Silver expected it to take no longer than four days. It would be the perfect amount of time for them to become reacquainted, and adjust their combat styles to complement the other.

It wasn't until the sun was in the middle of the sky and they had long left Riften when Brynjolf broke the silence. "Where are we headed?"

Silver turned to look at him, their mounts gently rocking them side-to-side with their heavy steps. The horses had remained at an even pace next to one another. She looked at him, studying his profile. His stare lingered straight ahead a moment longer before meeting her gaze.

"We're going into a Dwemer ruin in the Reach. We'll be passing through Riverwood and Rorikstead for supplies." Silver looked ahead, wondering whether if it was wise to tell him the whole tale in the open. Sparingly, she had glanced through the wood since they started riding. Perhaps Ulfric and Tullius wouldn't be looking for her as aggressively as she thought, but they knew all of her places of residence. Traveling, and staying away from her homes, seemed as though it would be the safest bet to steer clear of the trouble. In addition to running away from the problem, Silver had traced a shout that may reside, deep in the pits of the ruin. It was a win-win for her.

"It's been a long time since I've left Riften." Low and soft, Brynjolf's words fell in with the gentle breeze. "Irkngthand with you and Karliah was the last time I left the Rift. Karliah wanted me to help with the guild while she tended to duties elsewhere."

"When did you see her last?" Silver wasn't surprised by the information. Since Karliah was welcomed back into the guild, she showed uneasiness when the topic of her staying in Riften was brought up. The title of Guildmaster was offered to Silver, but she had refused it. Karliah had taken ownership instead, and had brought prosperity to the guild, returning it to its former glory one day at a time. Because of her wariness to remain in Riften, Karliah always had one reason or another to venture to any of the other holds in search of more contacts for the guild. Last Silver had heard, Karliah had brought an apprentice under her wing, much like when Brynjolf had taken Silver under his.

Silver's eyes wandered into a mist of nostalgia. Although it was a short time ago, Skyrim had undergone vast changes in the short period and so had she.

"At least a year," he said softly. He was as lost in nostalgia as she was, she guessed, based on the gentle tone of his voice.

Conversation died, leaving Silver to her thoughts until they retired for the evening. Near a creek, just off of the road, the horses were loosely tied to a couple trees, and they prepared their small tents. The clouds looming over the horizon told Silver that rain was coming their way. Over the fire, they cooked three rabbits seasoned with salt and a few dried herbs that Silver carried more as ingredients than flavoring, but Brynjolf had insisted that she add them to the cuisine.

"Sure, salt will help the taste, but some of those elves ears, and garlic will make it even better. With the mead, it'll go down smoothly."

Reluctantly, she followed his suggestion. When the meat graced her tongue, she found him correct. Though, she would never let him hear those words fall from her lips. The succulent meat filled their bellies as the fire dimmed and they prepared for sleep. Silver was exhausted from her lack of slumber the previous night. Her fatigue didn't stop her from brewing a few more potions over the fading flame. When she had finished, Brynjolf's even breathing indicated he was sound asleep. She followed shortly after putting out the dying embers.

Before the sun peaked over the mountains in the East, they were well on their way. By the end of the new day, Brynjolf and Silver would be in Riverwood. There, they would be sleeping in warmth, and their clothes would have the chance to dry. The pair rode miserably in the rain, drenched the moment they had woken up. Noon came quickly and the thick, ominous clouds gave no hint of stopping the deluge.

Silver cracked a smile as a droplet tickled the bridge of her nose, dripping from the tip. The warm moisture seeping through her clothing stirred her pot of memories. Why she smiled, she wasn't sure; it wasn't particularly happy. However, it was the first time a memory surfaced since she had begun pursuing Alduin more aggressively. Her memories of Skyrim were riddled with dragons, vampires, bears, sabre cats, bandits, death, and betrayal. Most nights, she would wake in terror fits. That was until she had made an elixir that allowed her to slip into dreamless sleep. The effects of the elixir repressed most memories throughout the day. Occasionally, one might slip through, but they were easier to sweep under the rug when she was awake.

Her empty mind allowed her to focus on the day and forget the instances where she would lay awake, shaking in fear, or when the fear became so real that she would find herself living in her memories again. Gazing into the wet forest, soothingly rocking back and forth, she felt herself relax. Brynjolf's company had always given her some sense of comfort. He was skilled in battle and she could rely on him to treat her if she were wounded.

"Do you remember… when you first approached me in that marketplace?" Silver turned her head slightly toward him, just enough for one gleaming eye to see his profile hidden by his hood.

He didn't look at her as he spoke. "I remember it like it was yesterday, _lass_ ," he gave a deep chuckle, emphasizing the last word. Silver laughed at his lighthearted tone. "You looked around to make sure I was speaking with you. Even then, you just looked at me for a moment and then continued on."

She laughed again, "I was shocked that you had spoken with me. It scared me away!" The movement from her laughter allowed a few droplets to fall on her cheeks. Wiping them away, she continued, "That wasn't the time I meant! It was the tenth or so time you had approached me when I had finally responded!"

Brynjolf nodded, finally looking at her. "Aye, I had figured it would be the last time I would try approaching you in the stalls. If it hadn't worked, I already had a plan figured to find myself in your room at the Bee and Barb. There, at least you wouldn't be able to ignore me." He winked, causing her to hastily look forward to avoid his green stare.

Heat crept along her cheeks as she spoke, "I'm glad it didn't have to go that far. I'm not sure what you saw in me to make you tail me so aggressively." A wave of anxiety pooled in her stomach as she was reminded of Ulfric and Tullius.

"Silver," he said softly and she turned to look at him in response. His tone was kind and deep until he continued. "The Dragonborn, named Thane of Whiterun, Falkreath, Solitude, Morthal, Winterhold, and Markarth, expert alchemist, and marksman. Most of all, she is a valuable member of the Thieves Guild." Mockingly, he had listed most of her formal titles.

The heat returned to her face as she looked forward, pouting. While her name was well-known, her appearance wasn't as widely recognized. Her name had spread quickly, but few remembered distinguishable features of hers, thus making it easy for her to drift from one hold to another without much notice. His taunting didn't make her upset, but it reminded her that she had made the mistake of allowing herself to gain a name that was widely recognized.

"Brynjolf," she began with a huff, "Second in command in the Thieves Guild, sarcastic red-headed Nord, expert wordsmith, who coats word in honey that fall on ears as pleasantly as a sweetroll does the tongue, commendable lockpick, and as successful with his flirtatious attempts as a three-year-old child."

He gave a "tsk" sound. "Ouch, lass, that hurts!"

Frowning, she remembered a question that had surfaced in her mind several times. She had asked once, but his answer had been vague. Silver wondered if he would divulge more information about himself on this trip. "Brynjolf, why are you not Guildmaster? You have more experience and you're more than capable."

"I've told you before that I'm just not leader material. I enjoy the Guild and I will never abandon it, but I don't wish to lead it."

He wouldn't budge, she concluded with a frown. "How is Karliah doing as Guildmaster?"

"That lass… She's doing the best she can, being away from Riften. Profits have increased tenfold and the few new recruits we've had come to us were shown what their lives could be like if they followed the rules. We're in a good place thanks to her and you. You may have refused the position, but you're just as responsible for the improvement, Silver."

Brynjolf's genuine compliment made her thankful for her dark, Dunmer skin. If he had taken a glimpse at her cheeks, they would be a darker shade than the rest of her face. "Thank you," she responded softly, nearly muted by the sound of hooves slapping against the muddy trail.

The ride continued in silence until they arrived in Riverwood. With their horses safe and drying in the town's stables, the pair turned to the inn. The warm fire that greeted the weary travelers gave them just enough life to keep from going straight to bed. There, she rented two rooms at the Sleeping Giant. Delphine, the previous owner, had moved into the Sky Haven Temple with Esbern months ago, and due to her connection with Delphine, she was told that Brynjolf and her could use the two rooms free of charge by the innkeeper.

Upon arrival they brought their wet belongings to the fire. Brynjolf had practically run into his room to change into spare pants and simple long-sleeved shirt. She remained in her mostly dry armor, leaving her cloak and backpack by the warmth. The large fire pit had a small stone wall encompassing it, and half of it was occupied by wet clothing dripping into the embers closest to the wall.

Aching from the long ride, they took a seat at one of tables with their backs to the fire. They shared a meal and began drinking to warm their bodies that had been chilled to the bone from the cold rain. They had the inn to themselves, aside the innkeeper, and were grateful for it. The emptiness allowed them to feel as though they could talk freely. Halfway through the meal, Brynjolf began retelling stories of the guild from a time before Silver had joined. He had also begun telling stories of the new recruits, a female in particular.

"If you could see the lass, it'd be like looking into a Bosmer reflection! Her personality is the complete opposite, though. She's sarcastic and she always beats me to the punch."

Silver couldn't stop the uncomfortable feeling rising in her heart. She was jealous and envious of this new recruit, but she dared not show the petty emotion. "Sounds like you've met the one truly destined to be your apprentice, Brynjolf." Her words were accompanied with a hearty laugh to hide the simmering anger. "Have you done any jobs with her?"

"Oh yes," he responded too quickly. "We ventured toward Windhelm, on the border of the Rift, with Karliah and walked away with a large haul of cargo that never made it to Winterhold. It went off without a hitch!"

Silver swallowed her nagging feelings with a large gulp of Nord mead before she responded. The warmth that came with the drink was welcomed as it numbed the ache stemming from deep within her core. "I'm glad that you've met a true companion for your work. I do miss being a thief, but I can't be who I need to be as a thief."

"Nonsense!"

Silver laughed again, "Nocturnal still blesses me, and I do practice stealth when entering unknown territory, but after perfecting my alchemy skills, I had no need for the extra coin through dishonest means."

Brynjolf nodded and leaned back slightly, "Aye, lass. No need to make dishonest coin and fret the law after you've become it. More for the guild" He smirked at her, raising his tankard to her. Their cups clinked together merrily. The conversation returned to the new apprentice he had taken in. Silver couldn't look past the mischievous glint in his eye as he spoke of the underling. At one point, maybe he had spoken about her the same way. Now, she wondered if he thought of her at all when she had left. When he was finished bragging about his apprentice, Silver seized the moment to retreat from the conversation.

"I'm going to bed. Good night, Brynjolf," Silver said quickly with a smile. Her smile was meant to hide the small discomfort she felt as she retired to one of the rented bedrooms.

Silver removed the armor she had slaved days over, crafted using dragon scales and bone. It was enchanted to enhance her archery, alchemy abilities, and her sneaking along with some magic resistance. It had stayed mostly dry beneath the other layers which the rain had soaked through. For that, she was grateful. Rarely, did she ever remove her armor. It was only when she was sure of her safety. The inn, the Sleeping Giant in particular, was safe in her mind.

Left in only her tunic, she reached into her bag and grabbed one of her sleeping elixirs. When the liquid graced her throat, she swallowed half of the bottle's contents and replaced the cork. The initial taste had always thrown her off, but the aftertaste was that of sweet honey, and a bitter bite that accompanied the ice wraith teeth. Familiar warmth swept through her core much like the mead had done moments ago. The only difference was that the elixir's effect would not wear off for hours. Tucking herself in, her mind wandered as she drifted between reality and darkness.

The two traveling companions were not oblivious to the attraction they held for one another. Brynjolf had made that clear when she was first leaving the guild. He had not propositioned her, and she always discouraged any interest he blatantly showed her. Her fate was bound to dragons, not people. In the end, she had told him that there was no room in her heart for love while the world wiggled and thrashed in turmoil that only she could stop. A pang of guilt hit her. She had refused him. She had no right to feel guilty over his gloating of the new apprentice.

Silver wondered if his Bosmer apprentice returned his flirtatious advances, like she once had. The recollections were stifled by her elixir, which she was thankful for. Such wistful thoughts would only distract her. Perhaps, she should have chosen another to accompany her, but she felt that there was no person she could feel more comfortable with during her journey. After all, most of those who had sworn loyalty to her were dead, waiting to be forgotten through the elixir's powerful effect.

 _A/N: Hey there! If you decide that you would like to stick around for the story, I just want to warn those interested, that this is meant to be a violent, tragic, and (will probably be) incredibly graphic with both gore and things of the naughty sort. At the same time, it is supposed to be "fluffy". Meaning that this story is pretty much a DragonbornxBrynjolf awkward, romantic, humorous, dangerous adventure that can certainly (and will) come off as sort of cliche. I couldn't find a story that quite clicked with me, so I'm making one that I'll probably come back and read. If you decide to stick around, cool, great, feel free to review/PM me your opinion. I always love a chance to improve. The lore may seem kinda funky in the beginning, but bear with me, there_ _ **is**_ _a plan._


	2. Chapter 2

**Ulfric**

 _That damn Dunmer_.

Ulfric's thoughts were consumed with the Dragonborn's exit days ago. He hadn't forgotten that she carried the Voice, but he underestimated how much of the Thu'um she had mastered with the Graybeards. When she slowed time, he saw her drink her damned potion and disappear before his very eyes. The door moved and he knew he had lost her once more.

"Pursuing her is a waste of time," Galmar Stone-fist reasoned with a tone that matched his name: harsh and cold. "If she will not join, then so be it. We do not need someone who isn't committed to what Skyrim needs."

Ulfric slouched in his palace throne. Leaning back against the stone chair's high back, he massaged his temples. "The soldiers will be discouraged if she joins the imperials," he said softly. The force morale had been slowly slipping since the rumor of the Dragonborn being on the Empire's side had slipped. In the back of his mind, doubt plunged its poisonous fangs into his reason. There was more to it than morality, but he could not bring himself to admit what else it could be. Not that his men would ever refuse an order, but he remembered when the small team of messengers had first delivered Tullius' message about the Dragonborn's loyalty. Tullius knew that the message would cause tension, yet he still moved it forward.

"The fact that you still refuse to run belly-up to the Empire is enough to bring morale to the men and women who serve you." Galmar's voice could have been mistaken for a growl.

Ulfric knew Galmar was right. The people followed him, or they did not. Much like when Galmar had set out to find that blasted crown, the symbolism behind it meant nothing to him. In a war, it wouldn't matter if he held a dragon's skull like Balgruuf or the blasted crown that Galmar insisted they seek out. To the people, all that matter was whether or not they would believe in _his_ words. At least, that was what he told himself. With dragon attacks occurring more frequently, he could surely find new inspiration for his army once the peace treaty expired.

However, when the meeting had taken place for the peace treaty, the Dragonborn had mostly sided with the Stormcloaks. It was in that moment, that he knew she was on his side. The way she had glanced at him throughout the meeting told him that she was watching him carefully. When he had reacted negatively, he noticed her features harden beneath that damned hood she always wore; her silver eyes that stuck out like a sabre cat's in the moonlight, stalking its prey. She glared at the source of his agitation.

When he was told about her being on the Empire's side, Ulfric felt betrayed. Not in a personal sense, but the same way he would have felt betrayed if a valued soldier had turned out to be a devout asset to the Empire. He had issued a bounty on her head in hopes that she would seek him out, forcing her to explain herself. Aware of how often she traveled between the holds, especially Riften, he knew that she was bound to hear of the bounty at one point or another.

Still, she had no confronted him about the bounty, but she had confirmed that she would not side with him. His face scrunched into what could be described as disgust.

"While you sit here and attempt to win that wench's favor, the Imperials are gaining more information about us. We both know that this treaty is merely a stall to the inevitable."

Ulfric nodded in agreement, "You're right." He moved a hand to his chin, combing through his beard. He released some of his tension through a heavy sigh. "But we must still protect the holds from the dragons. I will not have any of my citizens hurt by those vile creatures. We are lucky that in Windhelm we do not get many attacks. The Rift has undergone two dragon attacks within the past two weeks. I will not scatter my men. Send the few spies that we have and leave the bulk of the numbers in the major cities."

"That's more like it," Galmar smirked at the Jarl. "Where would you like to send them?"

"There will be one in each hold. We–"

"Jarl Ulfric!" A guard shouted as he barged into the Palace of Kings with five others. He guessed it was the small unit he had sent to go after the Dragonborn. When he had sent them six days ago and they had not returned after two days, he assumed the worst. He went on hoping that he would receive information on her whereabouts from informants in other towns. He would have chased her himself if Galmar hadn't stopped him.

"Speak," Ulfric commanded as he stood, looking down at his men from the elevated platform holding his throne.

"We followed her to Riften. She stayed there for a short time before leaving with a companion."

"Did you send someone to continue following her?"

"Yes, we expect a report from him soon."

Ulfric felt the tautness in his brow relax. How could he forget how dependable the men that followed him were? They worked hard to please him and it made him wonder if he deserved the unwavering loyalty. The thought was thrust to the back of his mind as he restored his confidence. "Good. Go and have a hot meal with some mead. You deserve it," he praised.

The men's shoulders relaxed and Ulfric could see the anxiety fall from their strained muscles. They left toward the barracks attached to the castle, leaving Ulfric and Galmar alone once more. Ulfric stared at the two sets of doors leading to the center of Windhelm, his city. Again, he relived the memory of the Dragonborn leaving, but with the recollection, he was reminded of when she had first visited him long after the attack on Helgen, where they had briefly met.

"I will still try and persuade the Dragonborn, Galmar. I believe that she will join our side once she has defeated Alduin. She shows nothing but loyalty toward her destiny to fight him, and I believe she will show the same faithfulness to the Stormcloaks." Ulfric declared in a tone that showed his determination.

Galmar grimaced. "You should sleep on that. What will happen what she turns you down after her fight with the dragons?"

Ulfric didn't have an answer for his trusted friend. Descending the stairs in front of his throne, his gaze warily scanned the stony gray hall before landing on the door leading into the war room, where they discussed their battle plans. "We must continue planning our attack on Whiterun and what we will do once we hold the city."

The pair walked into the room that held the marked map of Skyrim. Closing the door behind them, Galmar and Ulfric discussed their plans extensively. In the depths of his mind, he held an internal quarrel still. While words of war fell from his lips, the image of gleaming silver orbs blistered in his mind.

When they had entered the war room, the sun was just beginning to set. The moons were high in the sky by the time they had decided to retire for the evening. In his chambers, Ulfric stole one last look at the two moons before reluctantly lying down to rest.

For that night and the two following, he dreamt of those daunting silver eyes. It had been three years since Alduin had saved the Dragonborn and Ulfric from death. It had been three years since he had met an odd Dunmer and on the dawn of the fourth day since his men had returned with news of her leaving Riften, he was beginning to battle with himself on whether or not to pursue her himself.

 _When his men were loaded into the Empire's carriages, he was surprised to see that it already held an occupant._

 _For the majority of the ride, she had been asleep on the carriage bench. Hair pooled around her, cleverly hiding any distinctive facial features as she lay on the bench. Judging by her positioning, she hadn't moved since she was thrown into the back of the carriage. When she did wake, she slowly sat up. Her hands bound and residing on her lap as she corrected her posture while seated on the uncomfortable wooden bench. Hair pooled over her shoulders, messily covering her face. Through the hair, one eye could be seen and their gazes were locked. Her dull expression had told Ulfric that she either didn't care who he was or she hadn't a clue._

 _Ralof had started a conversation to ease his stress, and Ulfric was thankful for it. He was able to take in the strange appearance of the odd Dunmer, memorizing the odd details. Rather than the usual green or blue hue that Dunmer tended to inherit, her skin was a deep gray-black that could have been compared to a clear spring under the moonlight. Her hair and eyes bore the same pure silver that could beat the glow of a newly polished silver band under the sunlight._

 _While she was paying attention to whatever Ralof said, her eyes scanned her hands warily. He saw the familiar calluses of an archer on her dark hands. Her gaze flickered back to him, catching him in the act of staring. They held each other's gaze once again until they passed through the gates leading into Helgen. There, she began cautiously looking around. He caught one last glimpse of her before he jumped down from the carriage. The man holding a list of the prisoners' names announced Ulfric's name and crossed it off. A woman he recognized as Legate Rikke led him to the crowd of soldiers waiting for their execution._

 _His men made him proud as they stood, waiting their turn with expressions hollow of emotion. They were dying a death they thought was honorable. Alongside them, he was ready to accept his own fated death._

" _I'm sorry, prisoner," the man holding the list said softly. The scratching sound of quill on paper was heard he crossed off the names he had called from behind the carriage. "We'll make sure that your remains are sent to Morrowind."_

 _All the while, she had remained silent, her veil of silver hair clearing from her face as she walked, its length stilled at the small of her back when she stood beside Ralof. Never had he been haunted by the looks of a Dunmer, but she captivated him. What made her different from those that resided in his city? His intrigue was irritating him._

 _When he had escaped, separated from most of his men, he remembered feeling a splinter of hope that she had survived with Ralof's guidance. If she had, Ulfric hoped she would join his cause, if for anything, just for him to learn more about her. She exuded an aura that told him she was a warrior._

Shaking his head, Ulfric opened his weary eyes to see the map of Skyrim, marked with small flags and symbols indicating the current, future, and past locations of Stormcloak and Imperial camps, forts, and holds.

"Jarl Ulfric," Galmar's rough voice broke Ulfric's trance. He looked up at his lieutenant in response. "The Dragonborn was spotted going into a mountainpass. The men followed her into it far enough to discover that it was a Dwemer ruin. They retreated and took up residence in Rorikstead, awaiting your next move."

Standing straight, Ulfric folded his arms over his chest. "From what we could tell, over the past months she had been exploring the old, cursed Nordic ruins. Although, this isn't her first Dwemer ruin…"

After studying in High Hrothgar with the Greybeards, he knew that pieces of the Thu'um resided deep within the crypts. Her pattern indicated that she was collecting Words that were scattered across Skyrim. He was sure that she was trying to match Alduin's Voice, preparing for the inevitable battle to come.

"There must be a piece of the Thu'um there," Ulfric concluded in a low voice. "Dwemer ruins do not carry the Words," he continued, unsure of what the Dragonborn was planning. "I'm certain that she's trying to avoid Tullius and I as well." Looking back at the map, his icy gaze traced the route between Windhelm and Rorikstead. It was a long journey to continue relaying critical information.

"Ulfric, we need you in Windhelm," Galmar protested, as if he had read Ulfric's mind.

"Rule in my place, and do listen to Jorleif. If I return to find most of my citizens beheaded, then there would be no Skyrim left to fight for." Ulfric flashed his friend a smile. "Galmar, I need you to trust my judgment. I believe there is some way the Dragonborn will be useful aside from the morality she could bring."

After the words lingered in the air, he understood the doubt that had been seeded deep within his mind. His instincts were telling him that the Dragonborn could be utilized in the war. She could be the difference between victory and loss. If she were chasing after a Word, perhaps he could beat her to it and use it to bribe her. Not only was she a symbol, but a weapon as well.

The two locked eyes briefly before Galmar straightened his posture, "Ulfric, you're as stubborn as ever," he grumbled.

That evening, Ulfric and a few of his men left in the cover of the night. There was no need for those who report to Tullius to find out that Ulfric was traveling. They kept off of the main roads and rode through the bitter cold him and his company held natural resistance to. From Windhelm, they headed southwest, keeping in mind that he would need to make an important stop on his way to Rorikstead.


	3. Chapter 3

**Silver**

Crouched atop a large Dwemer pipe mounted high upon the wall, Brynjolf and Silver observed the man that had followed them into the cave. Silver scowled. "Did you pick up on them before we entered the cave?" She whispered softly to her companion, her eyes never leaving the stranger as he took a step closer to the trap.

 _Click!_

The spy's foot landed on a switch once hidden by dust. With a click, three Dwemer spider workers emerged from shafts protruding from the stony walls. Brynjolf had a hand on one of the dragon swords Silver lent to him, and she had an arrow prepared, ready to assist the man that had shadowed them. However, he had quickly demolished the mechanical bugs.

Panting as he stood over the remnants of a worker, the man ran his hands over his belt. He groped frantically until his hands stopped on a bottle wrapped in a small safety net that attached to the belt. Throwing his head back, he drained the bottle of its contents. He disappeared before their eyes, causing Silver to curse under her breath.

"You're not getting away that easily," she whispered fiercely. Silver took soft, sure steps along the pipe, trying to follow the pace the man had before encountering the mechanical spiders. She returned her prepared arrow to its quiver and cast her detect life spell. Watching him, she observed the glowing body and the corridor; his steps were predictable based on how she had watched him before, however the corridor twisted and turned. If she focused on aiming her arrow, she would likely lose the effects of the spell. Regardless, she tried.

The instant she reached for an arrow, he would turn with the hall. The pattern continued for two more turns until she gave up. Cursing, the pair continued to follow him until they were a short distance from the entrance. After one final turn, it was a relatively straight hall leading to the Dwemer archway. With the twists and turns of the corridor out of the way, she diffused her spell and stood still. If he followed the same straight pattern he had been walking along the hall, pinpointing where he may be by the time her arrow was ready would be easy.

Silver nocked an arrow and fired. The instant she released it, she knew it would not reach its target. The man had raised the gate before her arrow could reach him. A noise escaped her throat akin to a growl as she jumped down from the pipe and approached the three layers of bars that had erected in response to his pulling the lever. The barred off entrance left Silver and Brynjolf unable to leave the ruin.

Using her spell again, she watched the flicker of his life slowly disappear out of her range. The spell's power faded with the last of her Magicka reserve, throwing a faint wave of fatigue over her.

"No, lass. I had no idea we were being followed. They did a good job hiding it," Brynjolf responded finally, climbing down from the pipe.

When they had first passed through the hall, before they had any suspicion they were being followed, they found both levers that worked the door to the ruin. There were two levers, one on each side of the door. As a precaution, they tried both levers to ensure that no traps would be triggered if they needed to use it or, if it was a trap, then they might be able to use it against a tough opponent. Upon trying both levers, they concluded that the Dwemer contraption had been broken on one side; the gate could only be raised and lowered from the outside. If they ever had a reason to run, the gate served to give them a small sense of comfort as they ran away. It would ensure that whatever horror they were leaving behind would stay there. On the other hand, they could be trapped.

If it were a single layer of bars, as it usually was, she could have shot a few arrows at the lever to loosen it, or targeted their follower. With three layers of bars, one reaching from the ground to the ceiling, another from the left to the right wall, and the last stretching from right to left. The two horizontal sets were offset from one another, causing the bars to effectively recreate a feeling of imprisonment providing little visibility of what lay on the other side. It would be impossible to shoot an arrow through

"I believe this is when you tell me why we've come here." Brynjolf's weary tone echoed in the empty stone hall. He sighed as he tried the broken lever twice more. He had asked a few times, but each time she had told him that she would wait until they were inside the ruin.

Silver stared at him a moment before looking back to the gate, imagining their stalker's body impaled by the spikes at the tips of the gates. The eerie blue-white glow of the Dwemer lanterns lining the wall suddenly felt dim. She briefly wondered when she would see the sun again.

When they had entered the cave hours ago, Brynjolf had expressed doubt that a Dwemer ruin resided within the mountain. The walls were covered in ice and several layers of snow cushioned their feet as they walked. The few frost trolls dwelling in the cave were easy for the pair of thieves to take down. After they had made their way past the heart of the den, the gate they were presently trapped behind greeted them.

Just after they had tested the gate, they approached the pipe and climbed atop the sturdy metal, deciding that it would give them an advantage or traps and lurking creatures. It's was wide enough for comfortable steps and little worry about losing balance. The pipe attached to the wall and gained slight elevation as it continued along the stone hall. Conveniently, it remained a comfortable distance from the ceiling. The hall twisted and turned. They hadn't the slightest idea that they were being followed until Silver heard the unfamiliar click of armor, nearly lost amongst clinking and clanging of the mechanical gadgets that could be heard in the Dwemer ruin.

Silver stopped, Brynjolf barely stopped himself from running into her back, and looked down, scanning the corridor. From around the corner emerged their unknown follower. Atop the pipe, they observed him. He was too busy looking for signs of triggered traps on the floor and walls, searching for traces indicating that his targets had passed through before him. The hard expression he wore told her that he was frustrated with his current predicament. It must have been easy for him to follow their tracks in the snow leading up to the cave, but once they passed into the ruin, it would have made it difficult to pursue. Lucky for him, it was a straight hallway, meaning that the pair must not have taken any other path.

She had hoped to question him before he got away. When he closed the gate, their options narrowed considerably. Scowling, Silver looked at Brynjolf over her shoulder. "I will fill you in, but let's get as far away from this gate as possible. Tonight, we'll try to find an inconspicuous area and we mustn't leave evidence of our stay."

He only nodded and they turned away from the gate. A short distance from the gate was where the pipe stemmed from the wall. Climbing onto the pipe once more, they pressed on. Silver tried to ignore the nagging feeling of claustrophobia from being stuck in the ruin.

Most of the traps were avoided due to their traversing on the pipe. It ended when the corridor branched into a collapsed room, a few turns from where their follower had encountered the mechanical spiders. They climbed down from the pipe and continued on foot. It was an odd characteristic for the ruin to have, Silver thought. Most ruins had short hallways and many rooms. So far, the ruin had been one long hallway with several turns and twists, occasional descending stairs, and more halls.

"Of course the first sign that this ruin could hold anything valuable has caved in. I hope that this endless hallway doesn't lead us to a dead end," she said softly through her scarf as she admired the massive debris spilling from the room.

When they finally reached a door, they both cautiously eased it open. The door opened into a large cavern, a ceiling reaching far higher than she would've thought possible. Did they pass that many descending stairs? Brynjolf and Silver shared a worried glance as they walked past the door onto a balcony.

Silver was reminded of when they were chasing Mercer almost a year ago. When they were tracking him, they came to a balcony, similar to the one allowing Brynjolf and Silver to observe the cavern below them. The only difference was the lack of a golden gate, keeping them from descending into the pit. It wasn't until they were standing over the edge that they could see the contents of the cavern. The sight earned a gasp from both of them.

"Have you seen anything like that in your life, lass?"

Below them was a city of Falmer. The terrible race wasn't new to her, but usually they were set up in tents with a few chests, mushroom gardens, and small pens holding skeevers, chaurus, chaurus hunters, or human prisoners. In the cavern they overlooked, the Falmer city was thriving with activity and all of the vermin they kept in their company.

Large glowing mushrooms, like those resting deep within Blackreach dotted the cavern floor, and there were mysterious light sources in cages scattered in no particular pattern along the floor. There were small buildings she assumed were houses, watchtowers, a few larger buildings that lined the outskirts of the vast space, and small, scattered farms with humans tending the crops and beasts. On one side of the cavern was a waterfall pooling into a large pond. From the pond stemmed several rivers that ran through the small city like veins. Paths that connected each of the buildings occasionally had bridges to allow easy passage of the river.

"They know we're here!" Brynjolf called out as an arrow fired at them. He pushed her aside. It had narrowly missed her shoulder.

Her feet were frozen. The balcony they stood on had two points to exit: the door from which they came or down the ramp, joining the civilization. The ramp left them open to fire and the hall would offer them no refuge.

Her eyes locked on the ramp and she shouted, "Follow me!"

Silver ran down the ramp, hoping Brynjolf was close behind as arrows whizzed by. The ramp followed the wall of the cavern, leading them to a beaten path where five heavily armed Falmers were waiting. Behind them was a single, slender Nord in rags, like a prisoner, whose features were sharp and angular with green eyes and short blond hair that reached the base of her thin neck. Before the prisoner could speak, Silver grabbed Brynjolf's wrist and released a shout.

" _TIID KLO UL!"_

Her touch on him allowed him to move with her while the shout was in effect around them. Pulling out two potent invisibility potions, Silver gave one to Brynjolf. "Quickly, drink it and let's move." After consuming the potion, she dragged her invisible companion behind her, staying as close to the wall as she could manage.

 _Nocturnal, guide us._

The constantly shifting darkness wrapped around their fast-moving legs, successfully hiding them from their prey. It crawled up their bodies until it had consumed them, easing them into the mottled darkness. A small distance from where the group of Falmer that had surrounded them, Silver slowed and crouched and Brynjolf mimicked her movements. Time was released, and hisses from disgruntled Falmer were heard.

"Over there, straight ahead," Brynjolf whispered.

Behind a building was a small creek near the wall. Where the ground was supposed to meet the cavern wall was a long, horizontal opening. It was the perfect size for someone to slip inside if they were to lie down. Silver felt it was the most reasonable option for hiding; it was either that or attempting to sneak into one of the many buildings. With Falmers' senses heightened after being blind for generations, it would be best to stay as far away from them as possible. From the cave, they could also somewhat observe traffic, as a fragment of a main road could be seen from it.

"We'll have to crawl to get in there."

"Aye," he responded, gently easing out of her tight grip on his wrist. The potion wore off the instant he disappeared into the cave.

Following him, she removed the supplies being carried on her back, dropped onto her belly, and squirmed her way into the opening. She was halfway through the opening when she no longer felt the rough edges of the entrance. The small entrance opened up into a taller cavern. When she cleared the entrance, she slowly sat up being careful as to not hit her head, "Brynjolf?"

His hand on her forearm calmed her nerves. The adrenaline from the chase had her heart pumping and head dizzy with fear, but his touch quelled her uneasiness. Stretching an arm above her head, she began to feel out the dimensions of the cavity. It was small, but manageable. It was tall enough for them to sit up straight and wide enough for them to lay down side-by-side with a comfortable amount of space.

Carefully, she began pulling the items that were removed from her back into the cave: her knapsack, bow, sword, and quiver. Unable to put it all back on, she pushed it all into a far end. A few moments in the dark allowed her eyes to adjust. Turning away from the corner holding her equipment, she looked for Brynjolf in the darkness. The fragment of light leaking through the crack they had crept through allowed her to see the outline of a leg, the rest of him concealed by shadow. She guessed he was lying on his side, facing the entrance to observe outside.

"I can't see that well," she whispered softly as she cautiously crawled toward him. The width of the cave was no longer than fifteen steps.

He chuckled. "Aye. Any idea on how we might get out of this one?"

Stopping by his foot, she took a seat beside it, facing the crack. If she wanted to take a look outside, she would need to lie on her stomach. "Are you watching what's going on out there?" The creek outside of the cave drowned most of the busy sounds they had heard when they were on the balcony.

"It's hard to see much because we're behind one of the buildings, but I can see a main road. They look panicked." The building they were behind was angled, giving them a view of a main path.

"They didn't kill us on sight." Silver observed aloud as she thought of the group of Falmer that had greeted them at the bottom of the ramp with the prisoner.

"Falmer are tricky creatures. They're capable of keeping a society together, but they are barbaric. Judging by our welcome, I'd say that they wait for people to stumble upon the place and then add them to their collection of slaves."

A shudder rippled down her spine. "If we play our cards carefully, we can make it out of here."

"We need to find a way out first," Brynjolf suggested. She could hear the smile in his lighthearted tone.

"How are you so calm?"

The muffled sound of cloth rubbing on stone coming from Brynjolf's direction told her he was moving. She squinted in attempt to see him. "I'm as anxious as you are. The only difference is that I have confidence in us getting out of here."

Silver stared where she assumed his eyes were. Her frown deepened. "It would be unrealistic to try and take them down, but if we can get to higher ground then it may be feasible to slowly take them down."

"I'm sorry, did you miss the entire _city_ we just saw? There must be thousands of them and who knows if their slaves have been here long enough to consider themselves one of them. You've seen how they use some of the chambers in the ruins."

Of the several ruins Silver had explored, there had always been at least two chambers smeared with blood. Poisons, knives, whips, and bloodied rags lined any table and shelf in those torture chambers. Her hands tightened into fists as she became aware of the damp scarf she wore around her face. A dull warmth washed over her as the elixir she had taken before departing Rorikstead took effect, easing her hammering heart and suppressing unpleasant memories

"If we get caught–"

"We won't be caught." A hint of anger in his voice made her flinch.

"Hear me out, please," Silver said gently. "If we get caught, and for some reason or another we get lost from each other and lose contact, we need to form a plan." Silver removed her cloak, hood, and scarf as she spoke. "Until we can figure out where we're going from here, let's try and keep what we can in here. This way, if we do get caught, we'll know to return here for what's important. This would also be our meeting spot if we're caught outside of it."

Brynjolf was silent for a moment, taking in what she said. He laughed again, "For a minute there, I thought you were going to tell me to leave you here."

"I know you better than that," Silver trailed off as she folded her cloak, hood, and scarf together as best she could in the darkness.

"Are you going to fill me in on why we were being followed?"

Silver crawled a few paces closer to him. He was sitting up against a flat wall. She curled her legs beside her as she sat beside him, their shoulders touching. Turning her head slightly toward him, she spoke as softly as she could. "You're aware of the peace treaty between the Stormcloaks and Empire?"

"Yes, lass. I don't think there's a soul in Skyrim that doesn't know."

"For a reason that goes beyond me, Tullius had a message delivered to Ulfric, telling him that I was on the Empire's side. I cleared up the misunderstanding, but Ulfric and Tullius continued to try and buy my favor. I'm not sure what changed between the two sides to suddenly make them feel as if they couldn't go on without me in their plans, but I want no part in it."

"It's a game of tag now, is it? Whoever gets the Dragonborn will win the war and the people?"

"I believe there's more to it than that. I paid Tullius a visit after I heard about the rumor. I think the reasons he gave me were fickle. He gave me three reasons: I'm deemed politically powerful enough to put a halt to a war, demonstrated by the treaty, the Thu'um is a legendary ability that would boost any army, and lastly, which was more of a threat, if the Stormcloaks won, all those besides Nords would more than likely be pushed out of Skyrim and we both know that I'm no Nord.

"His first two reasons are true. I'm a Thane in most of holds, but I would not feel right using my Voice in battle the same way Ulfric does. For him, it's an honor to bear the gift, but I don't think it should used in war. As for Tullius' threat, I believe he may be right. Ulfric turns a blind eye to the Dunmer in his very own hold. I can't imagine what would happen to anyone who doesn't have the typical Nord features."

"There is no denying your power in the politics or on the battlefield," Brynjolf whispered thoughtfully. "He didn't mention why he felt the need to run the message to Ulfric himself?"

"They're squabbling like two children over a toy; I feel the reason may be petty, but no. He did not tell me," Silver said with an edge in her tone. "What puzzles me is how Ulfric went from 'you're welcome here any time' to 'I'll kill you unless you join my people on the battlefield.'"

"So, you angered him?" His tone was light with a touch of mockery.

"This isn't funny," Silver looked up at him.

"Right," he sighed softly. "And we're in a Dwemer ruin looking for a Word because…?"

"Because I needed time away from a terrible civil war, and I believe there's a Nordic ruin below it. In one of the ruins nearby Markarth, I had found a journal on a dead adventurer deep within its depths. I wasn't sure how old it was, but it talked about how its entrance was carved into a mountain, but it collapsed or something. The entries were mostly faded, but from what I could get from it, there was also a Dwemer ruin that might meet the Nordic crypt at some point."

"Will you tell me the truth about why you chose to approach me about following you?"

"I trust you."

A soft pressure was applied to her other shoulder, pulling her closer to him. Her head rested stiffly on his chest as he pulled her into his hug. "Perhaps it's best if we try and get some rest. When we wake, we'll try to figure out where we can go from here. I hope this Word of yours is worth it."

Silver stiffened. "I need to grab something before I settle down. Then, I'll sleep." After prying from his arms, albeit reluctantly, she made her way to the corner where her knapsack lay. Grabbing an elixir, she drank half of its contents and returned it to the bag. Before crawling back over to him, she grabbed her cloak and hood to use as a pillow.

They laid together, backs touching as they slept as peacefully as they could knowing that at any minute they could be caught and brought forth to taste what terror the Falmer could thrust upon them.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Hi! Just to be clear, the italics indicate that it's in the past. :)_

* * *

 **Brynjolf**

 _It had been weeks since Mercer and Silver had left to go after Karliah. He had tried to convince Mercer that he could help and, while Silver is perfectly capable of handling herself, it wasn't her problem to deal with. Mercer refused Brynjolf's proposals up until the very hour he departed with his_ _protégé_ _._

 _He remembered watching her go, hood up as always, silver eyes shimmering in the shadow it offered. Her ears were longer and stuck out slightly from her head, moreso when compared to other Dunmer he had met. There was also her face, which matched the shape of a Nord but with a slightly longer nose and less pronounced jaw. She had turned to look at him once more before following Mercer up the ladder leading into the cemetery._

 _Brynjolf leaned back against the desk where he and Mercer had fought moments before the lass had shown up. Grimacing, he looked down at the papers filled with numbers and names. He had a bad feeling about the two of them going to face Karliah._

 _The first week had made him antsy, but it took three days to ride to Windhelm, six to seven days for the full trip. It was when the second week had passed Brynjolf had grown nervous. He had informed Vex and Delvin that he'd go out and try to find both of them._

 _Another week passed and still he had found no evidence of where the two had gone. Reluctantly, he had begun to accept that Silver and Mercer might not return to the guild. Shortly after he had returned to Riften, word got out that Silver had fought alongside Karliah, forcing Mercer to flee to the thieves guild._

 _He had preferred the sting of death over betrayal. His blood boiled, but his instinct told him otherwise his fury was focused on the wrong person. Instinct told him that the Dunmer he had so aggressively persuaded into the guild was innocent or she had a damn good reason for her actions. It had been a long evening for him after Mercer had broken the news to the guild._

 _Brynjolf had sat in the Ragged Flaggon, drinking to his liver's discontent._

" _Bryn, you know better than that!" Vekel exclaimed angrily as he swept the endlessly dirty floor. "That protégé of yours is something else and has she ever lied to you? She wouldn't have a reason to betray the guild like that! I'm glad Mercer is ok, but there's got to be more to it than what he's told us."_

 _He finished off his tankard, vaguely listening to Vekel, and slammed the cup on the table. Leaning back, he looked to the stony, moss-covered ceiling. Silver could perform any sneak in the book with ease, but the nature of a thief evaded her. Honesty was her principle, she only looked in your eyes when she spoke, and she wore her heart on sleeve. He would never tell Maven that it was Silver who paid Brand-Shei's bail._

 _Soon enough, she had returned to the guild._ _After the confrontation and Silver had explained herself and Karliah, the guild was in turmoil. Mercer was on the run and they were in a panic; half of them thought Silver was blame, while the other half was ready to slaughter Mercer. He had sent Silver to Mercer's manor thinking that she would be the best for the job. However, just after she had left, he followed after her. Mercer's hired mercenary was sent off free of his debt, which made it easy for him to simply walk into the home._

 _In the bedroom, Silver was standing, anxiously looking about. "Silver," he called out in a tone that he couldn't identify. It almost angry, or sad, but there was a sense of longing._

 _She turned immediately, eyes wide and arrow nocked. Brynjolf held his hands up in a defensive position, his body stiffening behind the point of the arrow. Blinking a few times, Silver finally lowered the arrow, but her eyes never left his. "I thought you had to tend to the guild and Karliah." Her voice was barely above a whisper._

" _You hesitated," he said quietly. No doubt that she was questioning the entire guild after the fiasco. He took one step closer and her arrow was nocked once more, aimed between his eyes. "Whoa there, lass!"_

 _Behind the arrow, he caught a glimpse of despair and pain. "Silver? I won't hurt you."_

" _How do I know? You're just a bunch of thieves," she spat viciously. "You're all willing to turn on each other after years of working together. That's not a family I want to be a part of. After I've helped you lot track down Mercer, I want nothing to do with you."_

 _Her words were hoarse and unforgiving, but the wince they shared after her words told him all he needed to know. In a way, he felt as if he had betrayed her as well. Whose fault was it that she had joined the guild? Whose fault was it when she had been forced to tag along with Mercer? Who was the one that organized the guild to prepare for her return?_

 _Finally, she lowered her arrow. They stared each other down until she looked down at the chest at the bottom of the bed. In two quick steps, he had closed the distance. One arm wrapped around her shoulders, the other curled behind her waist. His body leaned down, hugging her smaller form into his. Her soft gasp was almost muffled by the sound of her bow and arrow falling to the floor._

 _Her short, shallow breaths accompanied with her stuttering out his name brought a smile to his face. Keeping an arm around her waist, he brought the other up to lower her hood. Pulling away slightly, he gently cupped her cheeks and pulled her closer to him once more._

 _Their lips touching was the greatest relief he had felt after the last few weeks of turmoil. Just as he was about to pull away, her arms snaked around his neck and pulled him into the kiss. Sliding his hands to her hips, their mouths played a battle that left them breathless. Picking her up briefly, he placed her on the bed and climbed on top of her._

 _It was the first time he had seen her hair a mess and pooled around her head like a glittering moon. Her face was darker around her cheeks and nose; what he imagined was a blush causing him to smile down at her. Her panting stopped as they held each other's gaze. "Brynjolf, I… don't–"_

 _He kissed her again. It took a moment, but she returned his affection. Her hands pressed against his chest gently as he began moving his kisses down her exposed neck. Keeping one hand by her shoulder, his other grabbed one of her hands and pinned it to the bed. Suckling on her neck, he heard her gasps._

 _Silver began wriggling beneath him, her free hand pushing with more determination, "Brynjolf, please, I–"_

" _I want you," he whispered into her neck. How he wished armors were easy to remove. "When this is over, we can have a nice long chat about the two of us." His lips moved to her ear, planting a kiss before nibbling on it._

 _Silver jumped, attempting to pull away, but he kept her in place. "Please! We have to catch Mercer and–"_

" _I want his blood as much as you do, but I'm enjoying this a little bit more," Brynjolf huskily remarked as he pulled back to look at her. His heart fell as he saw her gleaming eyes wide with fear._

" _More than anything, before Mercer stuck his sword through me, I wanted to have this moment with you." He took note of her eyes glassing over. "But I have responsibilities that must be taken care of before I can even begin to think of what… what this could be." The tears began falling, her lips were trembling, and her body was tensing beneath him._

 _There were no words he could think to say that could make him feel as though it was enough. He ached for her and wanted nothing more than to take her. There was something that sounded awfully sweet about taking her in the bed of someone who had betrayed him, but the moment her tears poured, he felt nothing but regret._

 _Pulling away, he helped her to her feet. As he was about to release her hands, she fell stumbled back to the bed. "My knees," she about whimpered. He looked down at her with a soft smile and helped her to her feet once more. Brynjolf took that as a sign that she had enjoyed his touch. When she had recovered, they continued searching the room until they found the false panel in the wardrobe._

 _He noticed how she began shying away from him whenever he was within reach of her. She would fidget and shift from foot to foot nervously. When they were exploring the Dwemer ruin, she had insisted on remaining in the back with Karliah until they reached their prize. Watching Mercer and Silver fight had been another sight. The two were talented, but above all, he was terrified for her. Each time Mercer raised his blade, Brynjolf had felt his heart drop and then it would swell with pride whenever she dodged, parried, or landed a blow._

 _He had never seen Silver fight with a sword, but she was deadly with her bow. Each shot she fired hit true to its target. At first, she had been aiming at his limbs to try and force him to stop fighting. Then, when she had him on his knees, the face of the Falmer statue looming behind them, she said only two words in a tone that chilled his blood._

 _"Beg forgiveness."_

 _Mercer's lips curled back into a snarl as he lunged at her. As swift as her dagger granted justice to the guild's traitor, it was her face when he jumped toward her with his blades. Silver didn't want to kill Mercer. She didn't enjoy hurting him or killing him; to her, it was just another thing she had to do. How many times had she been sent to do a dirty job, he wondered._

 _Back at the guild, the trio sat down around Mercer's desk. By their request, all other members were in the Ragged Flaggon enjoying the bittersweet victory. "Lass, Karliah and I would like you to take over the guild." Brynjolf told her after a long sigh._

 _"Yes, Brynjolf is right. We had the chance to talk about this briefly, before dealing with Mercer, and we believe that you're the perfect fit." Karliah chimed in._

 _Hood covering her face, eyes shining through the shadow, she looked down at the water in the Cistern. "I'm not fit for the job. While taking care of this, I have realized that I wouldn't be able to give the guild all that it deserves."_

 _She wasn't looking at them as she spoke. A pang of anger flitted through his core. "What, because you think the world needs you so badly that you can't pursue what interests you?" Brynjolf's tone was low and dangerous. He leaned forward over the desk, staring into her downcast gaze. When she looked at him, the anger was replaced with resignation._

 _"Then who will lead the guild? I've only just come back and it's not quite home yet. Brynjolf has refused..." Karliah added calmly, trying to diffuse Brynjolf's evident anger._

 _Silver looked to Karliah with a gentle smile, "If anyone can do it, I'm sure you can. Why not have both of you be Guildmaster? You both fit the part and complement one another."_

 _The discussion continued until it was agreed that Karliah would be the Guildmaster. It took convincing on Silver and Brynjolf's part but she eventually agreed. She had gone to join the others in the Ragged Flaggon shortly after, leaving Silver and Brynjolf in the Cistern, still standing by Mercer's desk._

 _"How long will I have to wait for you?"_

 _Startled, she looked up at him. "I'm not sure, Brynjolf, but my place is not with the guild now. Elgrim has need of my potions, and Jarl Balgruuf has sent me message about a dragon that's been soaring over horizons near Whiterun. I imagine the Greybeards are growing impatient with me too." She flashed a sad smile._

 _"The guild will be here when you're done. We'll never forget what you've done for us." He returned her smile._

 _He leaned back against the desk and folded his arms, staring at the door leading into the Ragged Flaggon. His smile faded, "Will you be visiting from time to time?"_

 _The light tap of her feet on the cobblestone ground caused him to look at her. Was she leaving without saying goodbye? Warmth came over his shoulders as she raised herself on her feet and wrapped her arms around his neck. He relaxed into her hug and snaked his arms around her waist, holding her close. She was wearing her simple thieves' guild armor, making it easy to feel what he hadn't when they had infiltrating Mercer's manor._

 _"It will be a long time, probably," she said softly in his ear. "There's a lot to do in order to stop Alduin and I need to pull some political reins to unite Skyrim for the fight. But when I'm finished, and it's all done, I'd like to still call the Cistern my home. I'd still like to enjoy the company of my fellow Nightingales, and, most of all, I'd like to enjoy the company of a certain red-headed thief." Silver planted a soft kiss on his cheek that made him suppress a shiver._

 _Brynjolf tightened his hold, but then loosened it. She pulled away and he crossed his arms again, missing the hug. "You're always welcome. We'll consider you an important contact for the guild while we wait for the Dragonborn to save the world."_

 _He had known that he would miss her company, his one-sided flirtations (that turned out to not be one-sided), and her talent. Certainly, he did miss all of those, but the smile she gave him as she turned away from him was what he missed the most. She never did ask for much, maybe some arrows, a little bit of training from others, and she loved hearing stories, she could steal the any septim from all of Skyrim, she had heart, a sense of innocence, and wonder. He admired her and he had made him a better person as a result of their companionship._

 _Weeks later, it wasn't until he had been basking in the memories of her helping around the guild when he noticed that he knew little to nothing about her. Whenever he had asked, his questions were deflected or the conversation turned to someone else. She had a way with words that made it easy for someone or something else to become the subject._

Warmth covered his cheek, rousing him from his sleep. He opened his eyes to the light coming from outside of the cave, Silver was sitting near him, her hand on his face. "Brynjolf, wake up. It seems like they've calmed down outside. Now may be a good time for us to try and figure out where we can go."

Groggily, he sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He was awake but her limbs were sore. He wondered what time it was outside of the cave. He heard heard her rummaging through the small pile of her belongings. "Lass, don't bring your bow. Just a dagger. It'll be easier to move around, and a dagger will be enough to get you out of a bind." The quiet rustling stopped briefly and then resumed for a moment longer. When she was finished, she crawled toward the entrance.

"Well, you're eager." He felt half of a smile make it's way to his face as his thoughts brought up the image of the both of them on Mercer's bed.

"The sooner we find it, the sooner we leave." Her tone was warm. She had turned to look at him before crawling out of the cave.

Grabbing his dagger, he followed her. It took one shared glance for him to understand what her goal was. On the other side of the cavern was a ledge. It was small, high up, and the wall seemed rugged enough for them to climb. From the ledge, they could observe the city. She looked at him again, nodding once toward the cave they had emerged from. She was asking if they should move their belongings and make the ledge their new hideout.

Shaking his head, he glanced at the cave. It would be more likely for them to be caught on the ledge, he thought. He was sure that there had to be at least one mage that could cast a detect life spell. One look at the ledge would show two warm bodies. On the ground, their sign of life would blend with others. When she started walking away, he assumed she got the message.

If they had been able to walk a straight line across the cavern, it might have taken them considerably less time to reach the ledge. Because of the vast amount of light sources and heavily trafficked paths, they had to tread carefully in the shadows of houses and the occasional boulder. The wall had proven to be an easy climb with rocks that were sturdy and easy to hold. At first, it was suspiciously easy, until they were about halfway up. He had almost slipped and Silver had lost her footing a couple times. Yet, the rocks remained still and the two had made it to their destination unscathed.

Looking down at the city, off to their left they spotted the balcony that stemmed from the seemingly endless Dwemer hallway. He wondered if the man who had followed them had returned with reinforcements, or if he had been glad to have cornered them after trapping them. If he decided to explore the ruin, him and any party with him would likely meet a worse fate than him and Silver.

In the center of the cavern was a large tower that gave off light in all directions. On the ground, surrounding the tower was a bustle of Falmer, slaves, and vermin they kept as pets or cattle. With as many slaves as they had, there had to be worked the Falmer needed done. Opposite of the balcony where they had initially entered was a small building, not as small as a house and not as large as one of the other buildings. It was connecting to the wall and the doors remained open with a consistent stream of Falmer entering and exiting.

"I think that's where most of the slaves work," Silver murmured. "There are thirteen of the houses, four buildings that look to be used mainly for gathering of some sort, two towers besides the one in the middle, and then there's that building they're going in and out of. The four big buildings have more slaves entering and exiting, occasionally a Falmer. There," Silver pointed to a darker area across from them that gave a faint glow, "Must be where the chaurus, Skeever, and the like are kept. I haven't seen any pens for them. We can probably steal some food from the gardens they keep around the light sources, if we need to."

Brynjolf eyed the glowing entrance. It was close enough to their shelter to make him wary of sleeping as peacefully as he had before. "There must be shifts for whatever they're doing, otherwise they wouldn't have as many slaves as they do. They'd all be dead."

Silver gave him her silence as agreement. Taking a seat, she folded her legs and watched the building the same way a sabre cat would stalks its prey. While they waited for signs of shifts, Brynjolf kept an open for patrol parties and how often creatures entered and exited the glowing cave. Two or three hours must have passed by the time he had begun to understand the flow of the Falmer and the slaves. As he had guessed, a group of escorted slaves left the building Silver was observing. A new group of escorted slaves entered shortly after.

"We have to get in there. If there's any place that might have a lead on where that ruin may be, it'll be there." Silver whispered. Her eyes widened a moment afterword, "There's a burial urn!" He followed her gaze and examined the few small burial urns piled with miscellaneous debris piled outside of the building. Knowing that they would be entering the building with he most traffic, his brow furrowed.

Brynjolf rarely felt fear when it came to what he was good at, but with a Falmer's heightened senses, in exchange for their eyesight, he had doubts in their ability slipping by unnoticed. If it were one or two Falmer on guard, then he would have more confidence in the matter. "Lass, there's got to be at least four or five Falmer going through that door every hour. I don't think I would advise going in unless we had another way."

He could see her mind processing the information as they sat, watching the their targeted building. "Let's get closer and we'll try to get in if an opportunity comes. If not, then we'll wait until one does come up."

Climbing down from the ledge, they made their way into a small area, conveniently shadowed by one of the houses. From their new position, they could see into their targeted building.

A terrible yell erupted from the balcony, startling the two thieves. Unable to see the top of the balcony, Silver and Brynjolf watched as two Falmer dragged a man down the ramp. "Is that..." Brynjolf trailed off in a whisper.

"It must be. Not many would wander into a Dwemer ruin," Silver responded grimly. Her head snapped to the building. Several Falmer had exited and none had entered yet. "Let's go!" Silver swiftly moved toward the emptied building. As much as Brynjolf wished he could help the captured man, it would be a suicide mission. With the amount of Falmer, there was no hope for a silent escape. Silently, the pair entered the building.

There were piles of rubble on the floor, but it the expected signature metal pipes, stone columns lined with metal, two valves off to the corner and several Dwemer artifacts scattered about. Straight ahead of them was a hall with descending stairs. Cautiously, they proceeded down several flights of stairs to another door. Slowly, Silver opened it and headed inside, motioning Brynjolf in after her. Closing the door behind him, darkness enveloped them. There was a hint of light far ahead of them, following the sounds of mining.

Putting his hand against the wall, he used it to guide him forward. The rocky edges closed in around them, making the hall seem the perfect size for someone of his height to comfortably make it through.

They pressed on until they were a few paces behind the group of miners. He had expected them to be mining ore of some sort, but in the dull light radiating from two small Dwemer lanterns, he saw that the material was a type of crystal or precious stone. The space being mined was small, but the grunts coming from the workers echoed around the area as if they were in a temple.

He felt Silver gently touch his arm. He turned, expecting to see her, but was greeted with a hiss from a Falmer.

 _Shit._


	5. Chapter 5

_Warning: Death_

 **Silver**

 _The arrow pierced her flesh as if she weren't wearing light ebony armor. Stumbling, Silver tried to catch herself, but her clumsy feet caused her to fall on her side. A warm numbness swept over her body just before she hit the ground, gnawing at her limbs until she lost all feeling. Her breathing slowed and her body felt as if it were melting into the cold ground of Snow Veil Sanctum. The conversation between Mercer and Karliah had somehow remained clear through the fog of her mind._

 _She was scared, and confused as she lay on the ground, unable to feel its coolness on her skin. Karliah had vanished and she felt some relief. Surely, they would catch her next time. Mercer slowly walked back to her, then kicked her onto her back. He spoke, but his words were gibberish. With a smirk, he raised his sword and stabbed her abdomen. No pain greeted her as she felt her body move from the force of the blow. With a soft gasp, she drifted into a black sleep, her last thought lingering on how she didn't want to leave Brynjolf and Mercer's self-satisfied smirk._

 _She felt the trickling sensation of feeling returning to her and with it, came the revelation. She understood what had happened. The darkness that kept her from comprehending the events dissipated._

" _I'll be certain to give Brynjolf your regards."_

Screaming, Silver jolted forward, eyes wide _._ Thrashing, Silver tried to climb forward, reach out, or do anything that would force her body to shake off the grogginess. Panting, she looked frantically to her wrists and ankles to find them bound. Crying out again, Silver tried using brute force to break the bindings. As strong as she was, the fabric was stronger.

Whimpering, she clenched her eyes shut and tried to focus on where she was, how she got there, and what had happened. Gradually, her panting slowed and her hammering heart calmed. Gently moving her hands, she felt the chaffing of her skin from the thick fabric. Her wrists and ankles were bound with the same material and equally as tight. Her wrist bindings were held in the air, above her head, by a thick chain. No matter how she twisted and turned her hands, the fabric gave no hint of weakness. Her fingertips and toes were numb.

Grunting, Silver opened her eyes to look at her wrists being held above her head by the same binding, which gave reason for the aching in her arms. Her arms were bent, bringing her elbows on either side of her head, she looked up at her hands. They were tied, one on top of the other. Looking down to her lap, she winced when she shifted. Her hip was sore.

She was sitting on the ground, her legs folded beneath her. A shiver ran down her spine as she took in her surroundings as best she could with the dim light provided by a lantern centered above the golden set of double doors. It was a plain room she was in, decorated by only the golden metal strings embedded in some Dwemer halls. Straight across from her were the doors and she was in the center of the room.

Taking a deep breath, a fowl stench caused her to gag uncontrollably. Looking around again, she saw a bucket in one of the corners behind her, but that wasn't the cause of the odor. No, what she smelled was the scent of decay. There were traces of blood in the cracks of the stone walls and floor. Her blood chilled. She was beginning to regret snapping out of her terror episode. Her breathing and heartbeat quickened as a panic simmered in the depths of her stomach.

Blinking, she realized how lost she felt. What was she doing in a Dwemer ruin? Was she still pursuing Mercer? Did Karliah and Brynjolf leave her to the Falmer? Her eyes widened, and her lips trembled as she pursed them. No, she had killed Mercer. She tried to make him surrender, but he kept fighting. Shaking her head and clenching her jaw, she continued trying to recall whatever eluded her mind; ghostly hands in her mind were groping for answers as if she were lost at sea.

 _The last time… a Dwemer ruin with Lydia and Rayya… Yes, they were with me_.

Biting her bottom lip, she tried retracing her steps to when she entered the ruin with the two women she trusted more than anyone in Skyrim. Her heart fell and her teeth clamped down hard on her lip, drawing blood in several spots. Throwing her head back and arching her back, Silver released a scream of terror. Her vision was painted red with the blood of the two women who would haunt her until the day she died.

Looking straight ahead at the door, Silver gaped as she panted. Her heart was thrashing as hard as it could and her breath was hitched in her throat, hidden behind her whimpers and tears. When she closed her eyes, images flashed in the darkness she tried to hide in.

 _Rayya screamed as she fell. The Dwemer centurion had attacked with its deadly steam. The attack boiled the housecarl alive in her steel armor. When the centurion was defeated, Silver approached the Redguard. Steam and smoked swirled into the air from the carcass. Rayya's skin had bubbled and she was unrecognizable. Silver's hand reached toward her and touched the shoulder pad. She felt the heat, but it was nothing compared to the pain in her heart._

Squeezing her eyes shut, she screamed for Rayya. Nobody deserved to be burned alive in their armor.

 _Lydia was fighting the two Dwarven spiders and spheres, but just as Silver's arrow had left the string, she knew her aim wouldn't be true. A Dwarven sphere landed a blow to Lydia, knocking her directly into the path of the arrow. It hit her neck and Lydia fell to the stone floor with a sickening crack and clanging of her armor. From the shadows, Silver was crouched with her bow drawn. It was her fault; she had killed Lydia while trying to evade the attention of the automatons, like a coward._

 _It had taken all of her power not to cry out when she had fired her arrow into Lydia. After she had quietly taken out the Dwarven automatons, Silver sobbed over Lydia's body._

 _ **COWARD!**_

Another screech of pain echoed in the room that was her prison. A person meant to be a hero and yet her hands were soaked in blood. Through misty eyes, she wondered if the heroes in stories had tales similar to hers.

What felt like hours had passed by the time Silver stopped yelling. She was hanging limply by her wrists, shivering from the anguish that stemmed from her repressed memories. Clenching her jaw again, she brought her empty gaze to the door.

 _What happened?_

Closing her eyes, Silver shook her head. Her mind was jumping from one area to another, unable to sort itself out. Wiggling her arms and legs, she attempted to physically busy herself to try and organize her thoughts, but all that greeted her was pain, both physical and mental. Suddenly, she felt a snap in her mind. Shaking her head, she repeated the same phrase to herself, whispering it and yelling it inside of her mind.

"I can't do this. _I can't do this_!"

"Help," she finally called out, her voice pitiful and hoarse. "Help me, please," she sobbed, unable to handle the pain in her heart. What she wouldn't do for one of her elixirs.

Her hands balled into fists, blood leaking from her fingertips as they pierced her palm. Looking up at the ceiling through tears, she squinted as she tried to change positions. She wanted to stand and stretch. With her feet not attached to a chain, it was possible. Her arms were shaking, and she would not be able to pull herself up without injuring herself. The sound of clinking chains echoed through the room as she fidgeted. Footsteps echoed outside of the door, causing her to still.

Silver eyed the door cautiously as it opened. It was a Nord woman with pale bond hair at a length that touched the base of her neck. Her face was an oval shape with pronounced cheekbones and a wide jaw. Even in the rags she wore, the Nord could've been mistaken for a goddess with her perfect curves. Piercing blue eyes cut into Silver's eyes like a knife causing her to wince. The chains clinked with her small movement. Two Falmer were behind the Nord, holding the double doors open.

"Are you done?" The Nord woman's voice was as cold as her gaze, and at the same time, it was alluring.

"Where am I?" Silver barely recognized her shaky voice.

The Nord woman shook her head, ignoring Silver's question. "What brought you to these ruins?" She crouched in front of Silver, bringing their eyes to the same level.

"I don't know?" An eerie calm brushed over Silver as she responded.

"What about your companion, hm? We have him too, you know. He's a handsome man." The Nord tilted her head slightly, making it seem as if she were smirking.

Silver's expression hardened. She would risk traveling with someone after Lydia and Rayya? No, certainly not. Why would she ever risk another person? Gasping, Silver tried to jump away from the mysterious woman as she reached out and grabbed Silver's chin.

"That red-headed man with the green eyes? We have him here, but at least we can use him for labor. You, we have no use for."

"Then why am I alive?" Silver spat, regaining some of her composure. Disbelief sprouted in the back of her mind. Why would she bring Brynjolf? He was the last person she would ever want to get hurt. Her thoughts were brought back to the Thieves Guild, causing her heart to plummet into her stomach. Despite the pain that surfaced, she kept her expression blank.

"Oh? Where's this bravery coming from? Moments ago you were sobbing and wailing like a child."

As Silver opened her mouth to protest, the Nord forcefully tilted Silver's head upward. Before she could react, the Nord poured the contents of a bottle into her open mouth. In her moment of shock, the cool liquid easily slipped down her throat, but some escaped in a coughing fit. The Nord pulled away but Silver kept her face pointed to the ceiling. She could feel the liquid as it fell into her belly, leaving a cool trail and warming her insides immediately. The remnants on her lips and chin caused a tingling sensation that she was all too familiar with. _Nightshade_. Slowly, she lowered her head, meeting the woman's gaze. Silver began shivering uncontrollably; no doubt an effect of the potion or poison.

"What did you give me?" Her teeth were chattering, making it difficult for the words to sensibly string together between her stutters and numb lips.

"An experiment," the woman whispered softly as she left with the Falmer.

Silver tried to speak once more, but her tongue was clumsy and it couldn't help her form her words. In an instant, the excruciating pain consumed her, crawling over her like an ant traveling through her bloodstream. Throwing her head back, she wailed in agony. Death would have been a mercy and she prayed for it when her mind wasn't wild with terror or pain. Time no longer existed, only waves of pain.

 **Ulfric**

"What?" Ulfric's outraged yell echoed through Understone Keep.

"The ruin is crawling with Falmer!" A soldier exclaimed, still shaking in fear.

When Ulfric had arrived, he was given an update regarding the Dragonborn and her companion. They were trapped within the Dwemer ruin they had wandered into. Then, he dispatched a small group of five men to trail after them. Four had returned to him.

"They took Alvnil! We weren't going to wait around for them to take us too. Falmer usually just… kill things. For them to be taking captives," he paused. "Only the Gods know what those wretched things are up to," a guard sputtered.

Ulfric leaned back against the desk in the center of his guest dwelling. With the Reach under Stormcloak territory because of the peace treaty, he knew he would be safe within its walls, thus he had chosen to reside in the Understone Keep while they pursued the Dragonborn. The pass where the Dwemer ruin was hidden in the mountains beside Karthwastern and the trip from Markarth was only a few hours.

"There must be another entrance to where she's trying to get to," Ulfric muttered. If there is, surely she would have used it rather than the Dwemer ruin. A pang of guilt hit him as the possibility of her being held captive by the vermin passed through his mind. When the first of his men had reported the findings of the ruin, he was glad to know that she would be stuck in the dungeon, but at that expense? Upon finding out that it was a hive of Falmer, he pitied her for being trapped.

His jaw clenched and he crossed his arms, "Men, begin searching for another entrance. Search all of the caves in the area and see where they lead. Look for any evidence of Nordic and Dwemer Ruin. There must be another way to get in there."

The men reluctantly left Ulfric's company, no doubt terrified of their assignment. Ulfric turned slightly to look down over his shoulder at the map on his desk. The location of the Dwemer ruin was circled with charcoal. As vile as Falmer are, they have their own minds, Ulfric thought. If they gave themselves one entrance and an exit that could be closed and opened only by the outside world, they would be stupid. Blind as they may be, Ulfric knew that there had to be another way into the ruin. Perhaps there was something else driving the Falmer? He shook the thought from his head.

Dwemer ruins often had lifts that reached the surface of the world. Why would this one be any different? If they could find it and gain access to it, he wondered what his next step would be. One hand stroked his beard gently as he thought. Him and his men could handle Falmer, but not on the scale of which they spoke of. Twenty, or thirty Falmer would be handled as long as the numbers were spread out. That many or more in an area at once? They would be quickly overpowered. Ulfric did not fancy the idea of him or his men being captives.

It took four days, but his men had pulled through. They discovered a cave at the base of the mountain. Once adequately prepared, Ulfric accompanied them back to the cave and they set out into its depths. Similar to how the Dwemer ruins were deep within a cave in the mountain pass, the Nordic ruins were deep within a cave and would've been overlooked had the soldiers not known what they were looking for. The rest of cave had belonged to wolves. After clearing it, the men had found the entrance blending in with the rocks, where the only hint of there being a ruin was a piece of an urn peeking out from the soft dirt.

"You're sure that this is what we're looking for?" Ulfric looked at his men, doubtful.

"This is the only cave we've found in the area that was close to the Dwemer ruin. The other caves we found just... ended."

Even if the two ruins didn't meet, and assuming the Dragonborn had not been to the ruin before them, it gave him an advantage regardless. Deep within the crypt would be a Word Wall, and eventually the Dragonborn would seek it, if she wasn't dead. "Let's go," Ulfric commanded, watching as rocks slid out of the way, revealing the ruin. He moved forward, his men following closely behind him with their weapons drawn.

When he had left Windhelm, Ulfric stopped in High Hrothgar to meet with the Greybeards. Reluctantly, they had given him some texts for translating the dragon language, but most of their collection had been given to the Dragonborn. For a day, he resided with them as he looked over the texts, eyes strained over foreign language and meaning lost in translation. Within one of the books they had given, Ulfric found a passage written in the dragon tongue.

 _"...The mortal bound into flesh should not be doomed to remain that way. If the Dragonborn could taste the freedom of flight, then their mortality would be tainted. No longer, would they wish to remain in flesh, but rather in the strong scales of the dragons. And then there was man, who has ever been so inclined to make sure they could have the utmost power. Deep below the surface, such words should remain hidden in order to allow the Dragonborn freedom to decide his or her fate. Never should man be given control over the strong and prideful dragon."_

 _"KAASK. JOOR. DOVAH."_

When pressing the Greybeards for information, and threatening them, they revealed that the Dragonborn was seeking the Shout mentioned in the text, but they had known nothing of it. "We would never dare to turn the Dragonborn into a slave of man," Arngeir had told Ulfric. They were lying, he thought as his steely gaze glowered at the cowards of High Hrothgar.

"Do you forget who is asking this of you?" Ulfric questioned them fiercely.

Arngeir and Ulfric debated endlessly. It wasn't until the cold steel of Ulfric's sword found it's way to Arngeir's throat had they revealed the way of the shout. They gave him what he would need to know in order to learn the words from the wall, much like the Dragonborn could. Having obtained what he needed, he departed to Rorikstead with the small company that followed him. From Rorikstead, he went on to Markarth by himself while his men went on to explore the Dwemer ruins.

In the Nordic ruin, Ulfric hoped that all would go as well as he wanted it to. If it went smoothly, he would end up with a dragon by his side; a clear victory for the Stormcloaks would be on the horizon. He could practically taste the intoxicating high of victory of the Empire.


	6. Chapter 6

**Silver**

 _"He's getting away!" Silver called out. The Windhelm guards were oblivious to her pursuit of a murderer and he ran past them. She readied her bow for a quick shot, but he rounded the corner headed into the cemetery. Cursing, Silver ran as fast as she could._

 _Perhaps it was the anxious perspiration with the adrenaline rush or the murder she had just witnessed, but Silver found Windhelm particularly cold that evening. It was cloudy and a terrible storm stood guard over the horizon. It was the dead of night, a time when only a few guards patrolled the bone-chilling streets. Normally, when strolling through an empty Windhelm, she would have been thankful, but it had brought on the murder of Nilsine Shatter-Shield by the hand of the butcher, a serial killer._

 _Silver rounded the corner after him, following in the direction she assumed he headed. Crossing the Palace of Kings entrance, she was tackled to the snow-covered stone. She gave a horrified yelp as she tried to turn onto her back so she could face the assailant, Calixto, the true murderer in Windhelm._

 _Silver clenched her teeth as the cold bite of a dagger met her neck and broke skin._

"YOL TOOR SHUL!"

Silver shouted herself awake, a flame spewing from her throat that carried a heat only matched by dragons. She wheezed a few times before regaining what little composure she had to begin with. Had she been asleep or merely unconscious from the pain? Groaning, she hung her head. The heat in the little room was stifling after the shout. While she could command the elements all she pleased with the Thu'um, she was not immune to the cold or heat. Luckily, her Dunmer blood granted her some relief, but not enough to stop her from sweating. Hanging her head, she panted with the only other sound being droplets falling from her face tapping the stone floor.

The crashing sound of the double doors being thrown open startled Silver. She looked up to see two Falmer warily holding the doors open for a Nord woman to enter the small room. Based on what she could see beyond the Falmer, she was near the center of the small underground city. Green eyes met Silver's as the woman knelt before her to bring their eyes to the same level. It was the woman that had greeted them when the Falmer had first surrounded her and Brynjolf at the bottom of the ramp.

"You're the Dragonborn," the stranger concluded aloud. Silver felt the familiar sense of relief as her lungs gave signal that they were ready to release another shout. Parting her lips, she prepared to release another shout. The Nord shoved a rag into Silver's mouth before she could Shout. Tying it behind her head, the woman leaned back. A look of pity in the emerald gaze caught Silver off guard.

"My intent isn't to hurt someone so important to my people." Silver's brow furrowed in response. She gave a small laugh, "Your stay hasn't been easy so far, thanks to my sister, but I've managed to keep you alive through your terrors."

Silver blinked and took a moment to glance between her bindings. There were dry trickles of blood around her wrists, but her hands were carefully wrapped in soft linen. She wondered if the blood was from her chaffing wrists or her hands lashing out in attempt to swipe the terrors away.

"You've been through a lot," the prisoner said sweetly as she sat and pulled out three bottles and a few rags from her knapsack. She began applying the liquids to different rags. She brought one of the damp rags to Silver's exposed abdomen. Silver watched her carefully, suddenly aware of how much of her skin was exposed. She was in her undergarments, and it was the first time she thought of her lost armor and weapons. The liquid touched the scar Mercer gave her with a touch so gentle she was unsure it was being applied at all.

"You have many scars. Your painful cries tell me you've met mental anguish as devastating as you have physically." The prisoner averted her gaze from the carefully applied solvent and peered into Silver's shining grey orbs. "I'm sure you have many questions. I won't be able to answer them all, but I know your friend got away, despite whatever my sister, Katfrida, tells you."

Sweet relief washed over Silver, but it was followed by doubt. There was no saying that this woman wasn't trying to trick her. "My name is Nori. Katfrida and I have lived down here for a long time. We convinced the Falmer that we're talented alchemists and we earned their trust by giving them a potion that happened to fix their lack of eyesight. As a result of that, most of them can see now, and they're having us work on more potions and treatments to turn them back into the Snow Elves they once were. I'm not sure if they'll have noses again, though."

Silver arched an eyebrow at her. Nori chuckled and returned to her application on the scar. "You probably weren't watching long enough to notice that all of the slaves are Nords. The mine you were exploring has crystals that only effect Mer, hence why you had fainted. It releases a small amount of gas each time it's disturbed by pickaxes. The potion my sister forced you to drink was a creation using the crystal as the main ingredient. We've been working on it for what feels like ages, and the Falmer have refused to let us experiment on them. When you stumbled in, she was excited for the opportunity to experiment on you. The last Mer we had died...

"So far, it seems that the potion causes your scars to reopen and your skin has paled considerably." Nori put the rag down and picked up another. She stood up and moved behind Silver. Lifting the shredded cloth that protected Silver's modesty, Nori began applying the solvent to her back. A scream threatened to escape through the rag in her mouth. "I'm sorry," she said in a voice just above a whisper. Exhaustion combed through her limbs as she stared absently beyond the Falmer, into the small city.

The other woman, Silver saw heading down the path, headed for Silver's modest prison. Her eyes widened in horror as she saw the two bottles in her hands. No longer did the Falmer or Nori exist. All that mattered was the animal-like fear that told every nerve in her body to flee from that heinous woman.

"Katfrida? I thought it wouldn't be ready until later this evening," Nori said calmly as Katfrida entered. Silver noted the waver in her voice, angered by the concern. "It seemed as if your last batch really hurt her. I'm not sure if she's ready for another one."

"Nonsense," Katfrida shrugged her sister's words away. "She's alive and breathing, that means that she's ready. The other one has run its course. I've turned these two into something that can be applied to the skin, rather than ingested, since her mouth is so dangerous." Katfrida shot a glare at Silver. Silver returned the glare.

"What is different about those?"

Katfrida went on a rant about the different use of the crystal in the potions she had given Silver; taking in every detail, she debated telling them her talents in alchemy. Silver was surprised to find that she had been knocked out for at least a day or two and had received several doses in that time. "...Depending on the results of these two, then I plan to apply it to a Falmer. After they've seen that it won't harm them, they'll gladly try these out," Katfrida proudly stated.

Nori had her arms folded over her breasts, unsure of what to say. She looked down at Silver, who was slightly behind her since she had gotten up to confront her sister. "Can we release her after we're done?"

Katfrida was silent for a moment. "Do you understand what you're asking? She'll go to the surface, grab an army, and wipe out the Falmer before they get the second chance they deserve."

Under the rag constricting her tongue, Silver fumed. Life runs its course mercilessly, but it does so with good reason. Only the Gods could dictate how it twisted and turned in their hands. Given the taste of freedom, Silver wouldn't intentionally seek to eradicate the small city, but if she were ever asked about it, she would answer truthfully.

Suddenly, her eyes were caught on a glint of light behind the woman, hidden in the small group of slaves that walked past the house. Looking past the arguing sisters and Falmer, Silver saw Brynjolf behind a building. He was too far for her to see the expression he wore, but she had a feeling it was a smile. All she had to do was keep holding on. He would get her out and they would leave.

Her sight was cut short by Katfrida who knelt in front of her the same way Nori had. Using another rag, Katfrida applied the cool, thick liquids to Silver's skin; her left and right upper arm each received different potions. It didn't take long for the pain to take root in her bones, traveling and receding like ocean waves until it reached every inch of her body. As the sisters left Silver to the pain, she caught Brynjolf's eye once more. She could do nothing but stare as the doors closed, ending the connection.

 **Brynjolf**

It took every ounce of his strength not to run through those doors and remove her from the house they kept her locked in. The two Nord women argued the whole way back to the dwelling he assumed was theirs. It was larger than the other buildings and it was connected to the wall of the cavern. Only hours ago, he had discovered that the exit he was looking for was in that house. Since then, he had been formulating a plan to safely escape with Silver.

When Brynjolf and Silver were in the mines, the Falmer had found him. Without a second thought, he fled. By the time he had noticed she wasn't behind him, he was halfway up the wall to their ledge. He had cursed himself profusely until he reached the top. All that time he had spent working with his new apprentice and he still wasn't used to keeping an eye out for his partner. Going back for her wasn't a viable option because he would likely be caught sneaking into the mine; they were aware of his presence.

Moments after he reached the top, a commotion had started just outside of the building housing the mine. Silver was being dragged by two Falmer, no sign of injury on her limp body. One of the slaves was arguing with them, her hands on her hips as she spoke. Another one joined her and the Falmer seemed to give up, based on the slack in their shoulders. One woman pointed toward the center of the city, and the Falmer followed the path of her pointed finger, recklessly dragging Silver behind them.

He was relieved to know that she was alive, and it seemed as if they were going to keep her that way. His imagination dipped into a dark corner as he thought of what they might do to her. Brynjolf had felt his stomach drop. He would need to figure out how to get them out before he could get her out of there; if he got her out too soon, with no idea of where to go, they could easily be tracked and trapped within the large cavern. Running his hands over his face, he groaned.

At least only one of them was caught, he thought. This meant that he could continue looking for the other exit and the Falmer would be preoccupied. He hated, more than anything, that her being caught was the perfect distraction for those dwelling in the cavern. It seemed as though she was the one that interested them since they first arrived, and now they had her. Brynjolf wanted to assume that the Falmer would give up looking for him, thinking that he ran as soon as he was caught. If there was anything he had learned in his line of work, however, it was never to make assumptions. Thus, he would continue being as careful as possible. If he had been caught too... he didn't want to know what they would do with him.

Returning to the ledge after making the brief eye contact with her, he spent the rest of his waking hours watching the double doors that trapped the Dragonborn. Lying on his belly, he watched them as his mind went over his plan once more. Heavy eyes slowly closed, finding some relief in the sleep he hadn't experienced for what felt like days.

 _A traveler wandering the market stalls was no new sight in Riften. The fact that their hood remained up, perfectly shrouding their face in mystery, made them seem like a criminal, but the merchants only saw another customer. When the foreigner pulled out their purse, Brynjolf's eyes widened. They were rich. Very rich. Smirking, he watched them as he tried to sell the fake elixirs to unknowing customers. When the stalls were closing, he knew of the one place they would stay, unless they preferred Haelga's company. Brynjolf had never quite taken a liking to it, but it seemed to take away the stress most travelers were burdened with._

 _They had spent the remainder of their day with the smith, and the stranger had handed him a small bag. The smith took it graciously and proceeded to give the hooded stranger several enchanted items and a small coin purse. They added the small purse to their wealth, and Brynjolf wondered if the rest of their coin came from honest work._

 _When they had finished their deal, the market was closing and merchants were leaving after locking up their goods. Retreating to the Bee and Barb, Brynjolf took a seat on the bench near Sapphire, who was enjoying a tankard of mead as she surveyed the incoming after-market crowd._

 _The stranger walked in. The shadow of their hood perfectly hid all but their lips and chin from the warm light of the tavern. It was a Dunmer. Brynjolf was watched them, memorizing every detail of the armor they wore. It was a mixture of light and heavy armor. They wore a light cuirass; the way the light cloth fell on their body indicated that the armor lay beneath the simple cloth. Their boots were made of thick leather, but their gauntlets, pauldrons, and poleyns were made with a fine steel. Briskly, they had walked past Brynjolf and Sapphire and scurried upstairs._

 _Deciding to stick around in case they took their meal at the bar, Brynjolf waited and entertained himself with the fuming Sapphire. "That stranger is going to bring nothing but trouble to Riften," the aggravated thief grumbled as she took another gulp of mead._

 _"They often do," Brynjolf remarked lightly. He was watching Keerava. She owed the guild some coin and he would have to collect soon._

 _"She had the nerve to walk right up to me and pay Shadr's debt as if it were nothing. Brynjolf, the fool owed nearly 600 septims. His shipments also gave us a decent amount since he didn't know how to keep his mouth shut about them!"_

 _Sapphire continued complaining as his thoughts dwelled on the rich stranger. "Sapphire, perhaps we could get our hands on the gold and steal right from under her nose." The two thieves discussed their plans in whispers. Sapphire said the stranger was a "she"... He thought that perhaps his charms would work. If they couldn't take her coin, then he planned to somehow involve her in the guild._

 _When he looked up next, he was startled to see the stranger descend the stairs. "There she is," Sapphire hissed._

 _She took a seat in the corner with a book in her hands. She was reading. Why she would want to read amidst the music, drinking, and ruckus, he was unsure. By the candlelight in the center of her table, Brynjolf was still unable to see any distinct features. Mjoll shortly took the seat across from her. The stranger hesitated but she pulled her hood down._

 _Brynjolf stopped, his lips pressed to his tankard as he watched her more closely. She had unusual features for a Dunmer. Her skin was a midnight blue, eyes and hair were a shining silver, and her features were soft, unlike her sharp-featured kin. Her ears pointed out slightly more than other Dunmer he had seen; she seemed to share none of the common features they bore. Slowly, he swallowed his mead and observed their conversation by lip reading._

 _They shared stories, Mjoll becoming especially animated while the stranger remained calm and collected. He quickly stopped paying attention to the conversation as he tried her name on his tongue. It suited her, he thought with a crooked smile. Just like anyone would when they saw a gem, he wanted her. Trying her name once more, he stood and retreated after sharing a glance with her._

"...Silver..."

Brynjolf sat up abruptly. He had fallen asleep. For how long, he was unsure. The damned cave made it impossible to tell time beyond its walls. Looking down from the ledge, he mentally prepared for the escape.

 _A/N: It took me writing this chapter from three different perspectives, and a few drafts, to get to this result. This chapter was really tough to mold it into what I needed it to be without being too... cliche, I guess. I really like skipping most of yhe dialogue from the game mainly because i assume that everyone has played it 9999999x like I have! I'm not quite satisfied with this chapter, but oh well. :)_


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: It's a longer chapter this time! I hope you enjoy it! Thank you for the encouraging couple of reviews, by the way! They really do give me a lot of motivation._

 **Ulfric**

Cutting down the endless Draugr had helped ease his anger. His men fought valiantly alongside him, and only served to further his hope in his current mission. Ulfric took out a cloth and wiped down his blade, removing the dust and grime the undead left behind.

"My Jarl, I suggest that we take a break and rest in this room."

Ulfric nodded and proceeded to assist in setting up the bedrolls and fire pit. It had been a few days since they had entered the ruin. Slowly, they headed deeper into its bowels, exploring every inch of it. He didn't want to miss a single detail of the damned place. Laughter rang in his ears, pulling Ulfric's thought away from his planning for the next day of delving deeper into the ruins.

"…She was so smitten by me, that I'll bet she's still waiting for me to return!" one of the men exclaimed as the others were teasing him.

"Yeah, right! I'll bet she keeps her bed warm with the help of another man," another joked.

Laughter rang through the small room they had locked themselves in. They continued to jest and tease one another about women through cheerful banter. Ulfric tuned in and out of their conversation, smiling here and there; it was nice to see them lively despite the danger they were in. He felt a sting of pride because of their bravery.

"That reminds me," one chimed in, "I saw you, Jodlti, at the Candlehearth Hall getting sweet with Luaffyn. What do you have to say for yourself on _that_?"

The accused became flustered and his chest seemed to inflate, "Vernndir, I would never go near those Dunmer pests," he hissed. "The city would be much better off without those damn elves."

Ulfric's brow furrowed. The man's words struck a nerve in him. Those were common words tossed about by his people, but it had never been said in front of him so boldly. He brought a hand to his beard, stroking it as he thought. The Dragonborn had mentioned something along those lines when she had been brought before him in Windhelm weeks ago, he thought.

Damned woman. She should have just agreed and he would've been able to do this with her, rather than against her. His eyes fell on Jodlti, and Ulfric realized his men were looking at him. They were waiting for some response while the man who had made the Dunmer comment appeared remorseful.

"What are you staring at?" Ulfric asked.

"Well… The Dragonborn, she is a Dunmer. We expected you to say something since you've been trying so hard to get her to join your cause. She _is_ the reason we're all in this ruin."

Ulfric released a low hum. "Your comment has helped me understand what she said before leaving Windhelm. My men desire nothing but Nords in their ranks." His voice came out as calm and collected, but his blood was boiling. Knowing that her words carried some truth made him feel like a fool.

"That's not true. Irileth of Whiterun is a fine warrior. It's only the Dunmer in Windhelm that are damn leeches," one growled in response.

"They wander the streets demanding that we give them more and more for free every day," another chimed in.

Ulfric frowned. Had the problem really gotten so bad in Windhelm? It reminded him of how Galmar was always slow to trust anyone but a Nord that tried to join the Stormcloak cause. Shaking his head, Ulfric refused to try and convince himself otherwise; it was a problem that needed to be addressed, but at a later time. Once Skyrim is his, he decided, then he would work to make it a better place than it was.

The men continued sharing stories after griping about the residents of the Grey Quarter in Windhelm. Soon after, the group had fallen asleep. Ulfric lay in his bedroll, tossing and turning. Clenching his teeth, he tried to stray his mind far from the Dragonborn, but it would wander in one giant circle, leading back to her feet. Running a hand down his face, he resisted the urge to groan.

 _"Your cause lacks strength if all it takes is one person before it falls to shambles."_

Fuming, he wondered how she knew exactly what to say in order to make his anger swell. By the time his men woke from their short slumber, he had not slept. They were getting closer to the deepest part of the crypt, and there he would find the Word that would bring that damned woman to her knees. He was as eager for the war to end as any citizen of Skyrim, and her being by his side would bring it to a swift and glorious ending.

He helped his men pack and they continued their exploration of the ruins.

Just before they set up camp, they came across a door requiring a claw. Fortunately, they had found it amongst the rubble in a previous area of the ruins. Luck was on his side, Ulfric concluded. Talos was guiding him. After changing the rings on the door, he used the claw to unlock it. The unsettling rumble of the door being swallowed by the ground reminded him that the greatest depth of the ruin was a short distance before them.

As the last of the door sank into the ground, braziers and sconces lit along the walls of the room beyond, leaving no dark corners. A stale, cool breath of air passed through them, carrying faint traces of decay and wax. It was a large chamber with a tall ceiling that made the vast space seem like it was yawning as they cautiously stepped over the door. On either side were ledges lined with thrones and there were benches arranged ceremoniously around the room, all pointed toward the Word Wall. On the far end from them was an altar with the Word Wall behind it. It looked like a hall of worship centered around the Word Wall.

Much like how man worked to destroy Alduin, those loyal to the World-Eater worked exceptionally hard to find a way to defeat the Dragonborn. By the looks of the walls, they had found a way but were stopped before they had the chance to use it. Slowly, the men advanced toward the Word Wall, expecting to be ambushed. They relaxed when none came. They were safe.

Ulfric ran his fingers along the wall. Pulling them away, he felt the dust on his fingertips. The crackles of a blue fire caught his attention from the corner of his eye, as one word in particular began to glow. Unlike most Walls, this one contained the entire Shout that would bind the Dragonborn to his servitude.

"Can you learn it, my Jarl?" One asked as he sheathed his sword.

"I will need a day, but I will learn it. The Greybeards blessed me with their knowledge before I left. All I must do is master it." Yes, it would be no different than when he had trained with them many years ago.

Having confidence in the fact that the ruin was cleared out, the men celebrated with the small amount of mead they had brought with them for the journey. Meanwhile, Ulfric leaned against the altar, studying the word until there was a tremor caused by his whisper.

 **Silver**

"It'll be alright, lass."

His words barely pierced the haze in her mind. She was groggy and numb both mentally and physically. Her bindings had caused her enough pain and as a result, she learned to move as little as possible. Because of the doses of mystery potions that the Nord prisoners experimented with, Silver was lost in murky waters, stuck between reality and dreams. Both realms offered her no peace.

Warmth enveloped her body, allowing her to curl up comfortably, as her arms began to regain some feeling in them. She smiled, welcoming the darkness of sleep once more, knowing that she may be safe as long as she was warm.

" _Color me impressed, lass!"_

 _Silver blinked, staring at the stubborn thief standing before her in the Ragged Flaggon. Her frown deepened as he crossed his arms over his chest, smiling widely. Her silence wasn't the answer he expected based on his fading smile. "My, aren't you the talkative one."_

" _Well, Bryn, she came. That doesn't make her thief material," Vekel commented._

 _Brynjolf glanced at the bartender and then looked back at Silver. "Aye. Just so happens that I have an errand for you to run. It'll show me if you really have what it takes."_

 _The order he gave her to fulfill made her stomach uneasy. Keerava, the innkeeper of the Bee and Barb was someone she had business with during her stay. Sure, she wasn't incredibly kind, but she was never unpleasant. Haelga was rude to any other woman besides her niece, who she treated terribly still. Then, the owner of the Pawned Prawn had been incredibly useful to her when she was trying to gather supplies for future travels. Resolving to do it, she found herself also trying to find ways for her to regain trust with the store owners after intimidating them._

 _Sighing, she turned away from the thief and headed off to complete the mission that would bring her into the arms of the Thieves Guild. Thieving was something she did sparingly and reluctantly, yet she was seeking to join the damn guild? Why? There was no other reason besides her growing attached to Brynjolf and his odd ways of catching her attention in the markets each day. It was too soon to call it a crush, but she was certainly infatuated._

 _After collecting the debts, Silver returned the coin to him. His praise made her feel like a child, something she had no recollection of. All memories of before she was in that carriage to Helgen were gone, making her a shell of a person when she had woken and met Ralof. Sitting in the wagon, she had stared at her hands. They were sore and calloused. When she encountered danger with a bow in her hand, she knew she would be safe, and she had a hawk's eye for ingredients with acute taste buds. She had tried Thistle on her way to Riverwood with Ralof, and realized that she knew how to use it in potions. All else was lost and gave no hint of returning._

 _While Brynjolf was stubbornly trying to get her to do his little stunt in the marketplace, she had taken a liking to his flattery and the way he'd smirk when he saw her in the town or the inn. Thus, when Mercer gave her a cold welcome and Brynjolf's warm smile greeted her, she felt as if she had found a home in the cold land of Skyrim. In that moment, she had decided to get to know each and every face of the Thieves Guild and do her best to protect them._

 _It was going well, even when she had first heard about Karliah. Mercer and Brynjolf were explaining the significance of Snow Veil Sanctum, and what had happened there with Gallus. Mercer then told Silver that she would be accompanying him to the crypt. Silver was nervous about it, but she felt safe knowing that Mercer would be there. Although she felt that he didn't like her, she knew she could trust him. After all, they all had each other's back._

" _I don't think it's right to involve her, Mercer. This is the guild's problem and she's still new."_

" _That's not what you were saying after Goldenglow. All you did was brag about how great of a thief she is," Mercer growled in response to Brynjolf._

" _I'll go," Silver spoke up, surprising the two._

" _That's that," Mercer looked at her smugly. "Meet me back here in a few hours, Silver. Then, we'll head for Snow Veil Sanctum." Mercer left Brynjolf and Silver standing by his desk as he left to prepare for the journey. As Mercer walked passed her, he said "See you soon."_

 _Brynjolf's brow furrowed as he watched Mercer go. She spun on her heel to follow him, anxious to ask questions about Karliah. As she turned, Brynjolf's hand caught her wrist in a firm grip, "Hold on, lass." She came to a stop and partially faced him with widened eyes. He released her wrist and stood straight, crossing his arms over his chest again. His green eyes seemed to pierce her, making her feel vulnerable._

 _He chuckled, "Don't look so uneasy. I'm worried about your mission with Mercer."_

" _We'll be just fine. We're all on the same team, right?" She smiled as she thought of the fond memories she had grown with the guild over the past few months._

" _Of course! I'm concerned of what Karliah is capable of. She's deadly. So is Mercer, but if she kills him… leaving only you to deal with her. I'm not sure you can do that." Silver had never seen Brynjolf's worry, only heard of it from fellow members who commented on his favor of her. Her heart skipped a beat. His concern touched her, making her feel valuable and important to him._

" _Do you worry about me every time I step out?" Silver joked with a laugh._

" _Yes." Brynjolf's straightforward response brought her laughter to a halt. They stared at one another, her eyes wide with surprise._

" _I've been able to handle myself well enough before I came to guild, and I've completed every task given to me. I've done nothing but surprise you, it seems. Perhaps I should be insulted by that. I'm also the Dragonborn. Fate is on my side," she smiled sadly, knowing that there would come a time when she would have to leave. Her being Dragonborn did not make her invincible either. He frowned._

" _You're important to me," he said softly, never breaking their eye contact._

 _Silver opened her mouth to speak, a few times actually, but closed it and pursed her lips. The heat was rising into her cheeks, burning hotter than the summer sun by the lake. She had to look away, changing her gaze to the Cistern's canal._

 _He took a step closer and Silver took one back reflexively. A panic was beginning to rise in her chest, her heart squeezing. "I'm sure you meant the guild is important. Not just me," she joked with a half-hearted laugh._

" _Bryn, what're you doing to your precious protégé?" Niruin remarked with a hearty laugh as he threw an arm across Silver's shoulders. Silver stiffened. Niruin had eagerly welcomed another Mer into the guild and had helped her hone her archery skills._

 _Brynjolf shoulders relaxed slightly, and he smiled, "Wishing her well before she heads off on her journey with Mercer, of course."_

 _They seemed to stare one another down for a moment before Niruin removed his arm from her shoulder and looked down at her with a dreadfully serious expression. "I'm surprised Mercer is bringing you along. I'm sure you'll come back in one piece. I've practiced with you plenty to know that your arrow will never stray from where you want it to go."_

 _Silver's blush returned. Looking away, she muttered, "Thank you". Niruin laughed and looked back to Brynjolf. They had a short conversation about a local job before Niruin removed his arm from her shoulders and left for the Ragged Flaggon. Brynjolf and Silver were alone in the Cistern. She watched Niruin go, wishing she could enjoy some time in the Ragged Flaggon before departing. Brynjolf's harsh emerald gaze caused her to flinch when she finally met his eyes._

 _"Brynjolf, I'll be careful. If you're that worried, couldn't you join us?" It didn't make sense to her, why Mercer had chosen her over the others. They all knew Karliah and what she was capable of, while Silver did not. He gave her a silent pat on the shoulder before wandering off to the other side of the cistern._

 _Later, when Mercer and Silver met by Mercer's desk, Brynjolf was there, waiting to see them off. He watched them go. Silver looked back at him once, longing to run back to him. She would miss his quirky flattery and flirtatious jabs while she was away. She didn't bother to entertain the thought of not returning._

 _It had all happened so fast; Mercer had tried to kill her, Karliah was trying to save the Thieves Guild, and Silver had been thrown into the roaring fire as the catalyst for the chaos. Shortly after she had recovered from Mercer's stab wound, another bit of business had brought her to Riften. Pulling her hood up self-consciously, she walked into the town and did what she had to do, eager to leave before a member of the guild recognized her. Yet, she found herself standing at the door of the Ratways, sweating and fighting with herself._

 _More than anything, she wanted to see Brynjolf. She wanted to hear Vipir's flirtatious attempts on Vex and Sapphire, and she wanted to hear Vex and Tonilia chewing Delvin out, or Vekel's horrible singing of "The Dragonborn Comes" each time she entered. Sucking in a deep breath, she pulled the door open._

 _The Ragged Flaggon was the same as ever, if anything it was quieter. Only Delvin and Tonilia were present, off in a corner having a dark discussion based on how closely they were leaning in toward one another. Silver approached the bar and stood for a moment before Vekel's expression fell into shock. Putting his hands on the table, he leaned forward and whispered, "You're back! You know, Brynjolf has been trying to find you?" Silver's heart fell._

 _Did he know what Mercer had done? Would they believe her if she told them what happened? Of course not... Mercer is their guildmaster and his word is law. On top of that, Brynjolf and Mercer were great comrades. "Is... Is that so?" She had to swallow hard to keep the bile down._

 _"Mercer came back a few hours ago, had to go straight to bed! I guess he was tired. I'm sure Bryn will be back soon. Take a seat!"_

 _Silver knew better. If she told them about Karliah and she didn't have proof, they would hunt them both down and they would have nothing to show their innocence. Pursing her lips, she shook her head and quickly fled from the Ragged Flaggon. Just in time, she thought, as Tonilia and Delvin had stood and started to approach her with unfitting furious expressions._

 _On her steed, she rode as fast as she could to Markarth. There, she would get the information Enthir needed to translate Gallus' encoded journal. Tears streamed down her face as her stomach retreated, making her feel dizzy with anxiety. Brynjolf's face flashed in her mind. Silver felt her stomach twist, and she closed her eyes, trying to fight her nausea. If he wore the same ferocity as Tonilia or Delvin, may the gods help her, she thought. She had fallen for him, she realized, and that made the pain mindnumbing._

Silver hiccupped as she came to, the tears in her dream coming to life as she slowly sat up from the cold ground. Her cold, bandaged hands pressed against her face, wiping her tears away. Blinking away the mistiness, she looked at her free wrists and ankles. They no longer had traces of blood. While her limbs were terribly stiff, she felt as light as a feather. She was free from those wretched bonds!

The flicker of light that kissed her skin made her audibly gasp. No longer was her skin the midnight blue. It was a lighter shade of blue, the color the lake turned after turning into glassy ice.

"You're awake," Brynjolf's low, sleepy voice sounded from beside her. His movement brought her attention to the arm draped over her hips. He was laying on his side, with his other arm tucked under his head as a pillow.

In one swift movement, she wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing him into a tight hug. The sudden shift in weight put his back on the ground, her body partially covering his. Her head rested in the crook of his neck as she squeezed him. There were no words needed as his arms wrapped around her waist in response, holding her close. On the ground, they laid hugging for a time before she pulled away, sitting up and looking down at him.

"Thank you," she finally said softly. He smiled in response.

Her eyes fell on a messy pile of belongings near them, easily spotting her bow and knapsack in the dim lighting. Quickly, she crawled to it and grabbed her knapsack, searching for her elixirs. Brynjolf snatched her knapsack, frowning at her as he stood beside her with a hand on his hip. "If you're looking for those potions you were taking, I emptied them all."

"Why did you do that?" Silver's voice was hoarse and cracked, but her anger still showed. She barely recognized it as her own.

"Don't think I didn't notice how dull you've been since coming by Riften to have me tag along with you on this trip." He shook his head, sad green eyes boring into hers. "It's like watching a skooma addict drug themselves to death. You don't need those damn things."

"Yes, I do!" Silver stood on weak legs.

"No, you don't!"

"They repress my memories, that's all," Silver growled, clenching her fists despite the ache and pain of the action.

"You don't even understand where we are. Your judgment was clouded by these _things_. For all you know, they were what caused you to faint in the mine!"

Her eyes widened, staring at him for a moment before looking around. A torch flickered on the wall, but there was no mistaking the carvings that the light revealed; they were in a Nordic ruin. The ceiling was low and the corridor held low arches every so many paces. Brynjolf had found the exit into the ruin while she was being held prisoner. A cold, gentle breeze caressed her skin, causing her to shiver and remind her that was nearly naked. She was still wearing the undergarments.

She turned back to Brynjolf, "Brynjolf, you don't understand. I needed those. There's a lot that's happened and they help keep me focused."

"You can't rely on some liquid to help you forever, Silver."

"Then who can I rely on? You? The guild? Not a single person has helped. They only make it worse," her voice was low, and her lips were curled back in a scowl.

The hurt in Brynjolf's eyes made her wish she could take her words back. It was true, she admitted. The elixir had certainly warped her personality, but it wasn't his place to dictate whether or not she should take the elixir. Regardless, she meant her words. While she treasured the people, whose company she enjoyed, they always left a trail of terrible memories and she was having a hard time coping.

Her hands covered her mouth as she thought of what she would do if she had lost Brynjolf to the Falmer. "I don't know why I brought you with me," Silver whispered.

"I'm not so sure any more either," he agreed hastily. "We're wasting time here, arguing. We should be trying to get this Shout you need. The sooner we get out of here, the sooner you'll be rid of me."

His words bit into her like a rabid dog. "That's not what I meant," she said softly, trying to clear up the misunderstanding she had just caused. "I would not have extended the invitation to you if I did not rely on you," she spoke carefully, trying to make her words clear through her dying voice. "I have killed my companions, and I have brought some to their deaths while I hid in the shadows because I knew that I wasn't strong enough to prevent their demise. Now, I wonder why I brought you with me when I'm just leading you to your death."

He was looking at her with an eerie calm. "In the end, it's my choice, as it was once theirs. They chose to follow and serve you. Now, I don't plan on dying any time soon, so I expect you to stop treating me like I'm on the chopping block."

"I get it, Brynjolf." Silver crossed her arms, suddenly aware of how exposed she felt.

"I don't think you do." He sighed, and turned back to the pile of their belongings and pulled out her carefully folded armor. Handing them to her, he kept his eyes on hers, "I grabbed your armor as I was leaving. I imagine those aren't very comfortable." His smile melted some of the tension away.

Grabbing them, Silver brought them close to her chest. She stared at him, waiting for him to turn around. He crossed his arms and kept staring at her. "I'm waiting for you to turn away," she said pointedly. He shook his head. "Last time I took my eyes off of you, I ended up leaving you behind," he frowned.

Sheepishly, Silver turned away from him, "I forgot how much you worried about me." She began to remove the rags and heard a movement that she assumed was him turning around. She peeked over her shoulder to make sure.

"Worry, lass. I worry about you."

"And what of your lively, little Bosmer?" Silver had tried to hide the venom in her voice as she said the last word, but it came out clear as day. He chuckled, earning an eye roll from her. His lack of response sent a pang of jealousy through her. Silver finished the last buckle of her quiver around her waist as she turned to him, "Where's my scarf and hood?"

"Those were the only missing pieces," he said lightly. She didn't believe him. "It's not such a bad thing really," he closed the distance between them, taking a lock of her hair between his fingers. Twirling it, he spoke, "I've always wondered how you ended up with silver hair and eyes. Those qualities are nothing like other Dunmers."

"If I knew, I probably would've told you." Silver pulled away from him and began braiding her hair to keep it out of the way.

"You've also never told me how you ended up with the name 'Silver'. Each time I asked, you always directed the conversation elsewhere." Brynjolf began picking up his few belongings from the pile, leaving only her knapsack.

Silver thought for a moment before answering. "I gave it to myself after seeing my reflection. I saw only my hair and eyes shining in the light. Perhaps that would explain to you why I'm more comfortable not remembering certain... _things_. I have no memories of my time before Skyrim.

"The Draugr had scared me in Bleak Falls Barrow, and they gave me spells of nightmares, but it was nothing compared to my first bandit experience." Silver shuddered. "Since then, I've had nothing but night terrors. They worsened after Mercer."

She finished putting on her knapsack and Brynjolf motioned in the direction they should be headed in order to go deeper into the ruins. The silence was unwelcome as her head buzzed with thoughts she had normally suppressed. How Brynjolf had escaped with her crossed her mind briefly, but she was happy to be free from the stone prison.


	8. Chapter 8

_Warning: Rape._

 _A/N: From now on, the majority of the story will be in Silver's point of view, occasionally switching between Brynjolf and Ulfric._

* * *

 **Silver**

Silver had asked him to talk in order to drown out her badgering thoughts, but she wasn't expecting him to go on endlessly about his new apprentice, whose name was Larehil.

"She didn't take as much convincing as you did. In fact, she was pickpocketing while looking at me!"

Silver rolled her eyes, "Great for her. Must've been a thief since she learned to walk." Silver grumbled. While she possessed some talent and ability, those who grew up thieving were significantly better than her at the trade.

Brynjolf took no notice of her sarcasm. "She did mention it, actually. Larehil didn't grow up on the street, but she's very familiar with what it means to steal to live. Perfect fit with the rest of them. I must say I have a great eye for recruiting!"

Silver scoffed. Brynjolf looked at her with a crooked smile, "I chose you, didn't I?"

"I'm no thief, like the rest of you."

"You've only said that since Mercer betrayed us," Brynjolf frowned. "Before then, you couldn't deny the fact that you were happy and considered yourself one of us." Silver scowled. Mercer's betrayal had fowled her taste of the guild. It made her question every member, even Brynjolf. It was her first time being betrayed, and she intended to make sure it was the last time it happened.

Mercer's blade pierced more than her flesh; his cold act shattering what remained of her naivety. It was a hard lesson and she had finished shedding her tears about it, or so she thought until she slept. Clenching her jaw, she wondered if the pain would ever subside. It had already been a year since they had chased after him, and it was shortly after when she had mastered her elixir, effectively ridding her of the burden the memories brought. Originally, her encounter with the bandits had stirred the creation of her elixir, but it was Mercer's betrayal that led to her trying to master it.

"You see, Silver, this is how you've put distance between the guild and yourself, once you left. Even if you had stuck around after Karliah became Guildmaster, you would have kept that little metaphorical shield up as if your life depended on it."

She thought a moment, their footsteps echoing through the dark ruin, their path lit only by their dying torch. "It feels like it does." Silver stared at him as she spoke. His eyes widened slightly.

"Is that how you work? I simply need to ask the right question?" His frown deepened.

"As long as it doesn't put me at risk, I wouldn't lie."

"I know you paid Brand-Shei's bail. I also know that you helped Keerava's lover complete his ring, and helped Bersi get another Urn."

"Get to the point, Brynjolf."

"I knew you didn't have the nature of a thief since I first laid eyes on you with your hood down at the Bee and Barb. I had a feeling that you would be great for the guild, despite that."

"That goes against everything you've just said, thief." Her frown deepened. "You recruited someone that wasn't a thief for the Thieves Guild?"

"You had a lot of coin!"

He was laughing, but she felt anger begin snaking its vicious tendrils into her core. "That's all I've been to the guild since day one, I'll bet. I have a lot of money and I have political connections now. That makes me another Maven."

His laughter stopped and he looked at her with an arched brow, "No, Silver. It was a joke. I could tell you why I continued to pursue you... However, I think that's a conversation for another time. I believe the better question is why you chose to join the guild even if you thought you didn't have the proper skills for it."

Without looking at him, she answered, "I became infatuated with you." The heat crept across her face as intensely as wild fire. It felt as if she had used her fire Shout in that tiny room she was being held in the Dwemer ruin. "Now, if you're done flirting, I had expected you to tell me about how you got us out of that ruin, not more tales of your apprentice."

His steps fell behind for a moment before he caught up to her once more. "Your honesty blows me away, lass. Here I was enjoying our heart-to-heart conversation," he pretended to look disappointed.

"I'm sure you were enjoying bragging her," she about growled.

Again, his lack of rebuttal made her jealousy intensify. "I had cornered Nori and got her to trick her sister into freeing you. She was more than willing to get you out of there since she believed Katfrida had mastered the potion for the Falmer. I promised them I wouldn't send any people to the ruin, and if they ever needed assistance in returning above ground, the guild would help.

"They just... let you walk away?" Silver was astonished, but grateful to Nori. The crystals they were using to experiment on her with only effected mer, she recalled. The part of here was intrigued by alchemy was wondering of its properties. Because she had been given doses between consciousness, she had no recollection of the taste. The only instant she remembered taking the vile potion, it didn't touch her tongue. Taking a glove off, Silver stared at her pale hand. "I wonder if the crystal's effects are permanent."

"The crystal?"

"They were mining a crystal. It didn't effect you because you're a man, but it releases a fume that only seems to effect mer, hence why there were only a few Falmer down there at the time. Though, they had mentioned the Falmer having somewhat of an immunity to it."

"That explains the Nord, Imperial, and Breton slaves."

She only nodded as her eyes strained on a door ahead of them. Finally, they had reached the end of the tunnel. If she made it out of these ruins, she hoped she would never have to travel down another long corridor or tunnel again. "Looks like we've found the end. Are you ready?" Silver looked to her red-headed companion. He smiled at her as he pulled a scarf over his face. She mimicked him and prepared herself to the stench of decay to overwhelm her when they opened the door.

Together, they pushed the heavy, intricately carved stone door open.

The door had opened into an open foyer-like room with a large fireplace and a table with chairs and some shelves holding decaying books. They crossed the room and descended stairs into a smaller hall. Using their torch to light their way, it also served to light braziers and several other torches along the way. It allowed them to mark their trail and see more clearly in the thick, dusty darkness.

Like other Nordic ruins she had explored, it was one long tunnel with twists and turns, occasionally lined with skeletons and Draugrs. Yet, none of the enemies came to life. It baffled her how the place seemed more abandoned than haunted. The walk seemed endless as the two were anxious and prepared to face any horror that may reside within the cold, carved walls. In what appeared to be a dead end, there was a set of double doors covered by rubble; not too much to clear, but just enough of the rocks rendered the door useless on the opposite side.

Usually, she wouldn't have bothered with it, but it was the only place they could go. Together, they cleared the debris and opened it. Warmth poured over them as the doors opened, the chill in the air dispersing because the torches and braziers were brilliantly lit. There were hardly any dark corners and it seemed like an old dusty home rather than a forgotten tomb. The two thieves shared a wary glance. Closing the doors, they covered them with debris and rubble as best they could and continued on when they felt the door had been buried enough.

"Stop," Silver commanded. In a dimly lit room they were passing, Silver caught a glimpse of the silhouette of a body on the ground. Carefully, she approached it and examined the Draugr. It had recently been animated and struck down. Pulling her mask down, Silver looked around the room warily for signs of a fight. "We're not the first ones here," she whispered as she straightened and scanned the ground.

"Which explains the flames."

"Not necessarily," Silver began, "When the Draugr awaken, they will light the halls and continue their worship as if they had never stopped." Kneeling, Silver ran her fingers along the stone floor. There were no signs of footsteps, but the dust seemed scattered, as if blown away, in some areas. She assumed that the fighter was wearing thick clothes that would create quite a breeze when he was using his sword. Glancing at the body, she counted only one slash; a clean and precise cut across the abdomen had defeated the Draugr overlord beside her. It was impressive to say the least. It would've taken her at least two or three arrows to bring it down.

"Brynjolf, I'm sorry that I couldn't hold true to my word about bringing home riches from the Dwemer ruin." Silver straightened and pulled her mask over her face. She looked at him as he leaned in the doorway, watching her. Knowing that someone else had come before her made her anxious. Hoping more than anything that it was bandits, Silver threw any other theory into the depths of her mind. Nobody but the Greybeards had known where she was headed.

They were deep within the mountains, there wouldn't be many people that would venture so far. Glancing at the dead Draugr. Whoever it was, they were strong and could handle themselves well.

"That's a sudden apology. You can make it up to me by bringing me to one that's on Skyrim's map. Hopefully there won't be an army of Falmer." Silver could hear the smirk in his voice.

She scowled under her scarf. "I say that because I think it's time for us to part ways. I'm certain that there's another exit besides where we had come from. I'll head to Riften when I'm finished here and meet you there."

"What makes you think I'll leave?"

"I'm asking you to," she looked at him sharply. "Do you not understand that I don't want to be the reason you'll never return to the guild. You'll never see that apprentice you love so much and you'll never hear Delvin's lecturing, or Vekel's horrible singing. I can't do that."

"I'll save you the argument and tell you I'm not going anywhere."

"Can you use a bow?"

"It's not my first choice, but yes, I can."

"Let's trade weapons. If we have to fight anyone, I would rather you remain hidden in the shadows." Silver unbuckled her quiver. Holding her prized weapon out to him, he hesitantly accepted them.

"Alright, we'll do this your way, Silver." He sighed and handed his sheathed sword to her. She added the sword to her belt and walked past him to enter the hall, feeling clumsy with the blade colliding with her calf occasionally. He followed her without making a sound.

Fearlessly, she walked ahead as he remained a distance behind her, clinging to the flickering shadows. Hours passed, the two covering as much ground as they could. Silver stopped in a room that was a dead end, stemming a short distance from the main hallway. Along the way, all of the burial urns had been emptied and any items that would have been deemed valuable were missing. The people that traveled through before her were admirably thorough in their search of the ruins.

Sitting on a bench in the room, Silver leaned back against the wall behind it. Brynjolf took a seat beside her and yawned, "Lass, I think it's best that we try and get some rest."

She nodded as the exhaustion overwhelmed her. Closing her eyes, she leaned toward him, her head falling comfortably on his shoulder. Feeling him relax, she did the same. For the first time in what felt like forever, she fell into a warm slumber.

 _Arcadia and the Companions had been kind to her since she had started living in Whiterun. She hadn't joined their cause, but they helped her brush up on her lost skill in archery. After finding out that she was the Dragonborn, the city welcomed her and the Bannered Mare even offered a free room for her, saying that they were honored to house the Thane before her journey. She had to visit the Greybeards, but she had wanted to see if Ulfric might offer more insight first based on all the bragging Ralof had done about the man._

 _After packing, she headed to the Whiterun stables and hired a carriage to bring her North, into the wet, snowy lands of Windhelm. At the midpoint of the journey, when the green faded into blankets of snow, the carriage was stopped. In the middle of the road were two men and a woman. Silver had seen plenty like them, most claiming to be farmers from Helgen fleeing from the dragons. She would usually give them gold and they'd be on their way. But here, in the harsh cold, Silver wondered what they were thinking in the thin clothing covering them._

 _"Can we help you lot?" The carriage driver asked as they approached the group. They were standing by the side, shivering by the looks of it._

 _"We're lost. We came from Helgen a while ago to try and find Windhelm to join the Stormcloak cause! Are you headed in that direction?"_

 _"If you've got the coin, I can take you," the driver offered nonchalantly._

 _The lost folks exchanged worried glances. "I'll pay for them," Silver spoke clearly. Relief washed over them as they climbed into the carriage with Silver. They shared animated conversations about their travels and how they avoided the worst of the merciless land of Skyrim. When they saw the shadow of Windhelm, they had rejoiced._

 _A short few days later, Silver left Windhelm feeling disheartened. Galmar had sent her on a short mission to show that he could trust her, and she did it, but Ulfric provided her with no answers. He had been in the middle of some speech about what the Stormcloak cause was about, when she turned on her heel and left. She heard her name called out a few times, but she ignored it and headed straight for the stables._

 _Mounting her newly bought steed, Silver followed the path south, headed for Ivarstead. As if a reflection of her mood, the winds picking up and a blizzard started a few hours into her ride. Turning around to Windhelm would bring her deeper into the storm, and the winds were burning her face. Dismounting, she walked her horse into a cave and started a small fire to cozy up to. She fell asleep to the cheery crackling fire and the occasional movement of her horse._

 _The discerning sound of her horse whinnying and pawing at the ground woke her with a start. She tried to sit up abruptly, but was quickly tackled to the ground, her hands pinned on either side of her while her body was stuck under someone else's. Wide eyes focused on the Nord hovering over her, both of them panting from her struggle._

 _"Easy there, elf. We don't want to kill you, just take your valuables and leave peacefully." He said sternly as he watched his three comrades rummage through her belongings. He was wearing a set of light fur armor with a thick cloak and hood pulled over his pale blond hair. The dim flame turned his crystalline eyes grey and hazel._

 _If all they wanted were her belongings, she relaxed under him. She didn't want to take their lives either, and that was what would happen if she tried to fight harder, she thought. In a quick movement, he had moved her hands above her head and held them with one hand. His other hand began patting down her waist. His hand patted hard on her breast, causing her to wince. He looked at her, alarmed and then back down at her chest._

 _"I didn't realize you had something under that thick armor of yours," he smirked._

 _Her heart fell._

 _"FUS!"_

 _Silver's shout came out naturally, startling her as the man was thrown off of her. It wasn't very far but it got him off of her. He landed with a painful thud. Glancing at him as she headed for her mount, she hoped she hadn't killed him. His fellow Nord companions were armed and ready to face her within seconds. Past the dying embers of her fire was the cave entrance and her horse, packed with a mix of their belongings and hers._

 _"She has the Thu'um, be careful!"_

 _She cursed herself for being a heavy sleeper as she tried to dance around them. She was unarmed and unsure of how to get around them. Silver had limited combat experience with people, especially at a close range. Her bow and quiver were on her horse, and she had no daggers on her. Putting a hand on her throat, she tried to feel for the burning sensation of the Shout to subside. If she could just stall them until she used it on them..._

 _"Haven't you heard of the Dragonborn?" Silver asked with a smirk. "I could easily kill you all with just my voice."_

 _For a split second, they seemed concerned. Sharing cautious glances with one another, they returned her smirk, causing her to frown. "Four against one makes a great set of odds," one laughed heartily. "I'll bet even the Dragonborn couldn't best that."_

 _Four?_

 _Silver was about to turn but it was too late. One hand was on her mouth, the other around her waist. He tackled her to the ground and the others followed him, quickly binding her hands and covering her mouth. She lay, pinned to the ground with the first Nord sitting on her. When they felt that her bindings were secure, the other men stalked off to go through her belongings again. "Fjodic, clean up when you're finished," one laughed as he crouched by her knapsack. Silver continued her struggle as he started to undo buckles of her armor._

 _Pulling out a dagger, he began cutting away the tough leather that wrapped protectively around her neck, waist, and hips. Wincing, she tried to pull away, not caring if the steel cut her flesh. It was a long process, but he finally got her down to her linen tunic with everything else tossed aside. "Now, I can get a good look at you," his voice was low and husky, making her shudder in horror._

 _He pulled away, looking her up and down hungrily. She yelled under the cloth in her mouth. How dare he! "For an elf, you don't look like one much," he commented as he took her chin into one hand. He moved her head slightly to both sides, memorizing her features as much as he could in the dim light. She imagined her dark skin made that a nearly impossible feat for anyone besides a Kahjit's gifted night-vision. Her eyes didn't leave his. "Let's not forget those eyes you have. And you say you're the Dragonborn? Imagine the songs told of the men who overthrew her in battle and in bed." He lowered his face into the crook of her neck._

 _Silver felt the blood drain from her body as he began nipping the sensitive flesh. Instinctively, each movement he made, she would try to lean away from it. A calloused, chilled hand began moving her tunic up, sliding along her rounded hips. He had one knee between her legs and the other leg bent so that his shin rested against her thigh, keeping it on the ground._ _She squeaked as his hand began roughly exploring what her underwear covered. Panic turned into nausea as she squeezed her eyes shut. There had to be a way out._

 _There needed to be a way out._

 _Suddenly, she was no longer the damsel in distress. The pop of the flame snapped her back to reality. She was holding a dagger, panting. Her tunic was covered in blood and chunks of flesh as she stood near the flame. Her heart fell like a bird shot in the wind. Dropping the dagger, she froze. Gaping at the four bodies on the ground, she wondered if a human could done the damage she was looking at._

 _The front side of their bodies were in ribbons and their faces unrecognizable. The cave reeked of blood and a glimpse of her tunic and hair told her that she had been in the middle of the mess. She had killed the men. Her limbs went numb and her legs folded under her. There was a splash when she collapsed. Silver ran her fingers through the liquid. Looking at her hand, the other covered her mouth as the dying light showed that she fell into a puddle of blood that didn't belong to her._

"Hey!" Brynjolf's deep voice startled her awake. He was on top of her, holding her down.

It wasn't the red-headed thief she adored on top of her, though. In her eyes, it was the man who had wished to do the very worst to her. Clenching her teeth, her lips pulled back into a snarl, "Get off of me." Her voice was dangerously low.

"Silver, _what_ has gotten into you?"

The use of her name caught her off guard. He knew her name. Blinking a few times, the illusion wore away, the pale blond assailant fading into her familiar companion. She had almost used the flame breath shout on him. Horrified, she wriggled, trying to physically hint that she was ready to be released. He didn't move.

"This," she huffed. One of his legs was positioned between hers, while the other was free. She brought her leg to his hip and pushed him, rolling them, putting her on top of him. Relief welled in her stomach. He had a firm grip on her, but he had released it when she turned them over. Leaning back, she sat on his thighs as her hands pushed his shoulders. "This is why I was taking that elixir," she growled.

Brynjolf stared at her for a moment. He seemed rested, but still tired. Silver wondered if she had woken home in her fit of terror. "If this is how you are after a night terror, I could do with more of it," he suggested with a sly smile.

"Choose a better time and place before you try that line." Silver tried to stand, but his hands grabbed her forearms, keeping her in place. "Please, we should get going. Now that we have some sleep in us, we should be fine for whatever lies ahead."

"These terrors have plagued you for how long?"

"Since I met Alduin." His grip loosened and she took that as a hint that she was allowed to move, but when she did, his grip tightened once more. "Brynjolf." Her voice dipped low once more.

He opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. He released her and she stood, stretching a hand out for him. He accepted it, moving to his feet in one fluid motion with her help. As they left the room, Silver looked over her shoulder at him, "You did get some sleep, right?"

Brynjolf nodded with a warm smile that set her heart on fire. She blushed and turned forward, pressing on. She hoped they would reach the Word Wall soon.


	9. Chapter 9

_Warning: Forceful stuff._

 _A/N: Thank you, guest reviewer! Your reviews really brightened my day and made me feel like I was doing a good job. I'll certainly follow your suggestion for keeping Ulfric's and Brynjolf's perspectives pretty frequent. :)_

* * *

 **Silver**

A tremor shook the ground, startling her. "Did you feel that?" Silver looked over her shoulder to her companion, bewildered. He nodded as he appeared from the shadows.

"Whatever it is, I don't think it's good," Brynjolf remarked.

Silver's lips tightened. To Brynjolf, perhaps it was a simple shift caused by some chaotic magic, but Silver knew better. That was a quiver from the soil telling her bones that the Thu'um was in use. Taking off into a run, Silver kept the blade ready.

"Brynjolf, hide yourself and only reveal yourself if you must." Silver sharply glanced over her shoulder to the shadows she felt him roaming through. "If you shoot unnecessarily, I'll put an end to you myself."

It didn't take long before she was looking into a large open area with an altar and several benches centered around it, rows stretching from the altar, ending a short distance in front of her. Behind the altar was the Word Wall. Cautiously, she stepped forward, using the aisle between the rows of benches as a walkway. There were no coffins she could see, and there were no Draugrs carefully sitting in thrones or standing guard.

Her eyes widened as she followed the small sound of a shaky breath. On both walls, above beautiful carvings that portrayed stories, stood a ledge lined with thrones. Glancing between the two ledges, she felt the hairs on her neck bristle. In her free hand, she flashed her Detect Life spell just long enough to see four men, two on each ledge.

"Dovahkiin," the ground quivered as the words fell from his lips.

Silver nearly dropped her sword. Of all the people that could have found the Word Wall, it was the only one that could possibly use the Thu'um against her. Her eyes frantically flew to the wall. Sprinting to it, she stared at the black wall as the blood drained from her face. Dropping the sword, she placed both hands on the wall. Her hands desperately ran over the faded markings, trying to find the glowing Word. It wasn't there.

"What have you done?" Silver's voice boomed, echoing in the vast cavern. She had turned on her heel, facing Ulfric who stood behind the altar looking as smug as ever.

His lips were curled into vicious smile; one hand ran through his hair while the other rested on the hilt of his blade. "Silver," his deep voice rumbled.

Silver picked Brynjolf's blade up. This wasn't good. "Ulfric," she snarled, "Do you realize what you've found? You could doom mankind if you use it."

"It's not a matter of 'if' I will use it, Dragonborn. It's a matter of when."

Silver rushed forward, holding the blade up by her face. She cried out as she charged. Just before striking, she felt the familiar sting of a projectile piercing her. Her strike faltered as the force of the bolt pushed her just enough to miss entirely. She crashed into the cold stone, the blade falling from her grip once more as she tried to recover from the crossbow's bolt. Curling up on the ground, she felt the effects of paralyze seep into her bones.

"Ul…fric." Silver said in one more desperate attempt. Her pleading eyes drifted to the shadow she knew Brynjolf resided in. Shaking her head as best she could, she hoped he understood not to strike. The crossbow bolt had torn through her armor as if it wasn't there, providing her no protection from the enchantments coursing through it.

If Brynjolf shot Ulfric, surely the battle would end with Ulfric as the victor. She had faith in Brynjolf's combat, but Ulfric had the upper hand with his Thu'um and small group of men. She had caught a glimpse of them all with bolts loaded. Their crossbows glowed a threatening green and red.

Ulfric kneeled down in front of her. "I heard about the Falmer in the Dwemer ruins you went through." Silver's eyes bore into his, occasionally wincing from the slight burning of the bolt. "I was concerned for a moment. I had thought about the possibility of you dying," he frowned. "You're lucky."

Squeezing her eyes shut, she felt the effects of the paralysis begin to lift, but the bolt continued to pump fire into her blood. "What do you want, Ulfric?" Her voice was pained and forced.

"I want you to join my army, otherwise I'll use this Shout."

Silver clicked her tongue and forced a laugh. "Don't be a fool. It's not going to happen. I swore neutrality until Alduin is defeated." _He would use it anyway._

Ulfric looked down the bridge of his nose at her, making her feel small. "You don't think you may have a better chance as a dragon?"

Silver's eyes snapped open, widening as she gasped. She moved her head toward him as far as her thawing body allowed. "You know," she murmured. "What did you do to the Greybeards?" Her voice dripped acrimony in a volume not much higher than a whisper, promising his doom.

"They gave me what I needed without bloodshed." Ulfric stood. "I've chosen to meet you here because I want you to know who has this power over you. I will wait until you come to me, but if I see you on the battlefield and you're not on my side, I will not hesitate to use these Words against you." Putting his hands behind his back, he suddenly took on the kingly appearance she was familiar with.

Slowly, Silver sat up, sliding a hand to the bolt protruding from her side. She flinched when her fingers touched it. "I won't choose a side." Silver's eyes moved to Ulfric's. She hoped it would prove a point if she maintained eye contact with the "honorable" Nord. "I will take no part in Skyrim's civil war. I will not become a soldier for the Empire, and I will not become a Stormcloak. If you want to use the damn Word, then do it!"

Ulfric laughed, a sound under any other circumstances would have made her happy to hear. "Is that what you wish?" He was smiling smugly again. "You'd be trapped down here if I used it."

The sound of an arrow spurred Silver into action. It took every ounce of willpower not to look toward Brynjolf. She didn't want to hint toward his location. Fearful eyes watched Ulfric, the arrow sinking into his arm. The strike had caused him to stumble, but there was no other effect. He cursed and yelled for his men to find the assailant. They went to work as Ulfric turned his sharp gaze to her, his jaw and shoulders moving in a way she recognized all too well. She prepared herself to use her own Thu'um.

"KAASK!"

Ulfric's Thu'um passed through her, consuming her mind and body. She closed her eyes and tried to fight the imaginary bars that came down on her, but it was useless. Silver was his to command. Closing her eyes, she succumbed to the darkness encumbering her mind. She was conscious, her senses anything but dull, however, the threads of control were slipping from her mind.

"Dovahkiin, get rid of him."

She heard his words, loud and clear. Opening her eyes, she stared at him briefly before standing in one fluid motion. Against her will, her body moved. "No, I don't want to hurt Brynjolf," she whispered. When the darkness faded, she was staring into a shadow with her arms outstretched. "Please, Brynjolf. Leave." Control returned to her and along with it came the pain of the bolt. Wincing, her hands flew to the wretched bolt. Looking into the shadow, she was relieved to have lost her sense of Brynjolf's presence. Looking at her feet, she saw the shadow receding from her. Nocturnal had abandoned her, saving Brynjolf.

Sighing in relief, Silver turned to Ulfric. Glaring at him, she tore the bolt from her flesh. She grunted and winced as she pulled it out, her eyes remained on his. "Shouts wear off, Ulfric. You think you could endlessly control me with that? You may have learned the Shout but you've only mastered a piece of it," she was smiling through her cold voice. Warmth pooled around the hand over the wound cause by the bolt.

Ulfric shook his head, reflecting her smile. "We can confirm that in Windhelm, if you wish."

Blinking, Silver stared at him as he became a blurry spot in her vision. Collapsing to one knee, she groaned. "You poisoned the damned things too?" Why it had taken so long for the poison to take effect, she wondered. Bringing her free hand to her eyes, she felt herself blink a few more times, yet she saw only mottled light. She was blinded.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she reached for the wall near her and ran her hand over the carved stone. Her body tingled uncomfortably as she put more of her weight against the wall, panting. Her heart was slowing and soon she wouldn't be able to move again. "Gods," she murmured. A flash of light shined in the darkness.

Suddenly, the light consumed her and she was standing in the center of the ruined room with the altar. No longer were the benches cracked and rotting, or the stones caked in dust. The faded carvings were clear with dark lines standing out from the white-ish stone. The altar was beautifully decorated with gems embedded into a cloth that shined with silver strands in the light provided by the sconces hanging on the wall and hovering chandeliers. Behind it, the Word Wall stood tall and dark with words carved brilliantly in white.

Taking a step forward, she shivered as her bare foot stung from the coolness of the smooth stones she stepped on. Instinctively, she looked down at her feet. Her armor was replaced with a sheer white linen gown lined with shimmering silver threads around the sleeve openings, collar, and hemline. A golden rope was tied around her slender waist, accentuating her curves.

"The last Dragonborn." Silver turned to the voice behind her. "Welcome to my sanctuary," the elderly man stepped toward her. He had a beard with a length reaching his hips, swaying as he walked with perfect posture. His eyes were gleaming rubies, contrasting with his dark Dunmer skin. He wore layers of robes in the colors of flame with a cloak dragging along the smooth stone that seemed to crackle and pop behind him as a campfire did. He stopped beside her, looking down at her. "Many years ago, this place would have brought about your demise." He looked forward at the Word Wall wearing a serene smile. "It is a beautiful place, isn't it?"

Silver followed his gaze, feeling oddly calm. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Putting a hand to her throat, she simply nodded in silent agreement. "Do not fret, Dragonborn. To you, this is a dream," the old man continued walking. He glanced at her and she received his silent beckoning to follow. Slowly, the two approached the altar.

"In the distant past of our world, I had been gifted with the Thu'um by Alduin as one of his most trusted Dragon Priests. In a frenzy of power, I had created this Word, which Alduin condemned. When Paarthurnax first turned traitor, this was the first place he headed. I did not teach him willingly. He sealed me within this chamber and before my dying breath, I sealed the Word into the sacred wall.

"I had not seen the terrible power of the Shout before then. My spirit watched as that man used one piece of the Word on you." He had stepped behind the altar and moved his hand gently across the obsidian wall, his broad back facing her.

Silver's hands tightened into fists. "To see the power, I feel both pride and shame. If there is any being that may know what can be done, it is Paarthurnax. Go to him, Dragonborn." Silver had several questions simmering on her tongue as she tried to keep him in focus. Gradually, the world began to crumble. As quickly as it had appeared, the world dissipated into darkness. Her limbs were heavy and her eyes drifted closed. She felt weak and cold. If Ulfric truly did hold such power, there was no way he would let her seek out the Greybeards. Sighing, her weary mind gave in to the seducing shadow of sleep.

Opening her eyes, they quickly snapped shut in response to sunlight. After a few minutes of acclimating to the harsh light, she sat up. Her legs were curled to her side and her hair draped over her like a curtain of silver water. She was surprised to find that her limbs were free and her mouth wasn't gagged. It seemed the norm to kidnap and bind her, she thought.

Sunlight filtered into the room through a set of windows that nearly consumed an entire wall across from her. She saw the tops of pine trees with vast mountains further back. Under her was a bed fit for a king and the room was decorated as such with two wardrobes, a table with a wash basin and cloth, and a vanity. A large foreign rug hid the familiar Dwemer stone floor. Silver was in the Markarth castle. It wasn't a room she had wandered into before, but she recognized the mass of Juniper trees that dotted the mountainous landscape on the other side of the window.

Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she realized she was dressed only in her tunic. Cringing, she hoped that it wasn't Ulfric or his men that had removed her armor and belongings, but her gut told her otherwise. She walked to the window and placed her hands on the thick glass. Fog traced her hands as the cold glass felt numbing against her warmth. Pressing her forehead to it, her breath created another flat cloud.

Trapped. She could escape and try to run from Ulfric and Tullius until Alduin was defeated, but what would come after? They would continue fighting. Perhaps she could flee Skyrim altogether. Ulfric's actions confused her and they contrasted the morals he paraded. Pulling away, she admired the landscape as the fog of her breathing dispersed. Skyrim was a beautiful land, until she got to know the leaders of it. The image of a certain thief flashed in her mind.

"Brynjolf..." Her breath caught in her throat, threatening to choke her. An intense relief coursed through her weary bones. He was safe, and that was all that mattered to her. Closing her eyes, she smiled sweetly. She hoped she could see him soon, but no matter how she tried to work it into her plan, it would be a long time before then.

She heard the faint footsteps as they approached, and the click of the door as it opened. Still facing the window, she didn't need her eyes to see that it was Ulfric and perhaps one of his men.

"No more running."

Slowly, Silver turned to face him. His face faltered for a moment, but he recovered quickly. "Go on. Tell me why you _need_ me. Tell me why you feel that I am an important asset to your cause." She slowly stepped forward. "Tell me why you felt it would be necessary to learn that Word and threaten me."

Ulfric seemed to think deeply before responding. "The Dragonborn is an important piece of tradition and history to my people."

Silver cried out in frustration, curling her hands into fists she brought them to her face and then threw her arms straight by her side in a fit of frustration. "Don't give me that! You claim to be honorable, strong, and you refuse to accept help from magic or other means beside brute force. You think your strength is your own and you would put anything on the line to defend that. Everything you have done goes against all that you say you fight and stand for!"

He was taken aback. Perhaps he was expecting an elegant, political woman as she tended to portray herself to the Jarls. "You're correct," he admitted, looking prouder than ever. "There is more to it. At first, it was a game with Tullius. Then, it became something more as you avoided me and crawled through my fingers."

"A battle for possession?" she growled.

"Yes," he responded slowly. "During the signing of the treaty, you regarded me as a leader. Don't think such gestures would slip by unnoticed. You sided with me."

Silver straightened and relaxed. "That was before I understood that all you are is a facade." Her voice held more sadness than she would have liked. "I had admired you when Ralof first told me about you on our walk to Riverwood from Helgen. I was scared out of my wits and I thought you would have answers for me." Crossing her arms, she turned away from him and sauntered over to the windows to gaze at the landscape.

"After I found out I was the Dragonborn, I went to you before the Greybeards." Ulfric nodded. She heard his accomplice leave and the door closed. Ulfric stood beside her, staring at the sky as it began to change to the colors of dusk. "Galmar had sent me out to kill a couple of pests, and there you sat. You had almost completely dismissed me until I did that. The way you looked at me changed and you started answering my questions. In the end, you offered me nothing new. You tried your best to add me to your ranks and I left to consider it, feeling disheartened and nervous to meet the Greybeards.

"The Greybeards taught me that my neutrality in Skyrim would prove only beneficial to taking down Alduin. When I had visited Windhelm again, I asked you about what you planned to do with the Grey Quarter. I had noticed most of your men were Nords and the few who weren't were easily outcast." She paused, trying to recall his exact words. "You told me that your first priority was to take Skyrim from the hands of the Empire and Thalmor."

She recalled the first time he promised her riches in return for her alliance. It was soon after the treaty was signed, but that was when she began to see him for the king he wasn't, despite his response ages ago. Her mind had been clouded with the idea of him being a great king because he was just like her in a way. She couldn't have been more incorrect. He remained silent.

"Are you sure the people of Skyrim are your first priority?"

He looked at her, outrage evident in his sharp eyes. "You have no right to question my resolve."

"I do when it involves turning me into your _slave_." Her words hit the bulls-eye.

His hands twitched. She silently dared him to try and argue about her freedom. For a long moment, they glared at each other. Ulfric finally switched his gaze to the window once more, a solemn frown replacing his scowl. "The moment you became the Dragonborn, you became a slave to humans."

He turned to face her, her gaze as cold as the frost lining the glass. She stared at him, her expression void of emotion. Like a strike of lightning, her hand flung to his face, aiming to land a hardy slap across on his cheek. He caught her wrist with ease. She shifted her weight into her other hand and tried again. Again, he caught her hand. Eyes wide, he knew what was coming next.

Ulfric tugged her toward him and crashed his lips on hers. Silver yelped in surprise and tried to pull back. He lingered with his lips on hers before he quickly pulled away and maneuvered her arms painfully behind her back. She cried out again. Panting, Silver was a flustered mess. Brows furrowed, she wondered what his actions truly meant. He still hadn't told her the truth. "When you use that Word, make sure you remember, Ulfric Stormcloak, that I will not join your ranks willingly. If what you've done shows me anything, it's that you're a spoiled child. I will not make this easy for you."

"I didn't expect you to," he stated in a deep, cold voice. His breath touched her ear, making her shudder. He was too close. Her stomach turned to lead as she felt him take a sharp inhale.

"KAASK JOOR DOV!"

The windows shattered as the room became too small for a man and a dragon.

* * *

 _A/N: Before I get some comments on the shout being mentioned as "kaask joor dovah" way back in chapter 5, I want to address it. In the book, it was supposed to insinuate that "this shout is an insult to dragonkind". It's that versus the shout, which translates to "cage," "mortal," and "dragon". "Dovah" is dragonkind and "dov" is dragon. I went back and read that section a few times. I thought I did a poor job of making that known, so if that bothers you, maybe this'll clear it up some._

 _I also want to mention something I kind of used and warped for the case of this fanfiction. In this, I'm assuming that shouts are significantly more powerful when you know all three words. Thus, when Ulfric used only "kaask," its effect was minimal, allowing him to manipulate her mind and influence her actions without much force. If he had used "kaask" and "joor" then her mind and body would've have been under his control completely for a longer time. The final word grants her a dragon form under his command. I hope this makes sense and doesn't turn you off to the fic. I like the way I've developed them so far, so I don't plan to change it._

 _A fair warning in the future chapters: Ulfric is gonna get pretty forceful on miss Silver. If you're still around, thanks for reading!_


	10. Chapter 10

**Ulfric**

A moment ago, his hands were wrapped around small wrists, holding her firmly in place in front of him. He used the shout and she screamed in protest. Her back arched, and she threw her head back. Silver's head smacked against his chest in her struggle, giving him a glimpse of the pained expression she held. With eyes squeezed shut, her lips were curled back to reveal clenched teeth.

When her eyes opened, he expected to see an unmatched fury. Instead, her brows were knit together above wide eyes that silently pleaded for release. "What have you done?" Her voice was soft, like a punished child's.

A bright light surrounded his vision. Reflexively, Ulfric released Silver and took a few steps back. The scent of nature's pine and damp soil flooded the room as it shook with incredible force,nearly knocking him down. When his vision recovered, a dragon was in Silver's place. Her new massive body expanded in the room. Her neck, shoulders, and one of her wings were stretched inside of the room while the rest of her body had spilled through the gaping hole in the wall that once held the window.

Panicked shimmering silver eyes gaped at him and he was reminded of staring at Secunda. She was panting and snarling as she thrashed. Releasing a furious snarl, she began clawing at the room, shattering the vanity and wardrobes into splinters. She was falling. He could do nothing but watch as she fell from the room. Her colossal body structure bent the few trees she fell on, cushioning her from the hard fall, but crushing the wood in the process.

Silver cried out again. Ulfric looked down at her over the ledge of the room. He had used it. The Stormcloaks had a dragon at their command. Another cry rang through the air. In it, Ulfric heard the familiar voice of the elf taking the form of a pained roar. The beast twisted and turned until she successfully rolled onto her belly. The snake-like neck twisted around, allowing her to look up at him. Any description of anger would be inadequate; the spark in her eyes was both divine and mortifying.

He bellowed out a laugh. "Come to me, Silver," his voice was loud and commanding.

A ripple of purple light visibly flashed across the snow-white scales covering her back, neck, and wings like a blanket. Silver shuddered and tried to take flight. It took a few clumsy tries, but she was eventually able to level herself with him. "Ulfric," she growled. "Release me." There was a primitive, guttural undertone to her once smooth voice.

"I warned you." Ulfric felt his smug smile spreading on his lips. He had her and he wasn't letting her get away. "I'll have you take me to Windhelm tonight. There, we'll make you more comfortable." Her eyes twitched as her head moved away slightly.

Silver's large mouth opened to reveal sharp fangs. She wanted to bite him, shout at him, do anything to incapacitate him, but she could not hurt her master. Frustrated, she roared once more, his name mixed in the ferocious cry. A shudder ran through him as his mind began to comprehend the power he held over her.

Ulfric commanded her to land and made his way through the castle to join her on the ground. The castle was in a panic from the quaking, and they soon found out what had happened. They requested no further information, but Ulfric had to threaten them in order to keep the guards from attacking the dragon that perched outside the castle perimeter. As he went to her, his mind reveled in the fact that he had a dragon for his army. The Stormcloaks would win against the Empire once Alduin was defeated. Both sides were preparing their armies for the inevitable, and in the end, he was prepared to win that brutal fight and make Skyrim the worthy land he knew it deserved be again.

He stood before Silver as she sat on her hind legs like a perched cat. She looked down at him, a mixture of anger, confusion, and hurt mixed in her pearly eyes. His eyes wandered over her new body. She was stunning. There was a perfect line starting at the corners of her mouth that separated her body into two horizontal halves. The top half was covered in the shimmering white scales while the bottom half was a deep blue. The line traced her wings, dividing them into the two colors like the two sides of a coin, and the tops of her hind legs, all the way to the tip of her tail. There were small spikes that traced both sides of her spine, creating a "path" from her eyes to the very end of her tail.

"Do you understand your place?" He crossed his arms.

"My place," she growled, flashing fearsome teeth, "is on the ground as the Dragonborn seeking to end Alduin." Her head lowered like a snake approaching its prey.

"You'll get your chance. Bring me to Windhelm tonight and I'll free you of the Shout, until we meet again."

"You make it sound as if I will come crawling back to you like a pet." Silver scoffed and moved her head to look at the setting sun. It would disappear behind the mountains soon, the sky fading into the darkness that matched Silver's underside. "Ulfric, if you would tell me what you're trying to accomplish, then maybe I would have aligned my talents with yours."

The desperation in her foreign voice surprised him, but he was unsure as to why. She didn't want to be involved and here he was forcing the role upon her. He felt no remorse because, in the end, it was a benefit Skyrim and it was temporary. Many men and women made sacrifices to better their homeland, and now Silver was making her sacrifice. If she desired to fight him on an equal level after the war, then he would allow it.

"I didn't know about this Shout when I first began pursuing you," he began. He followed her eyes to watch the blazing sky. "In Helgen, I was captivated by your strange hair and eyes. When you came to me in Windhelm, I felt that there was no way I could easily let you go about your duty as the Dragonborn without making you feel bound to my cause.

"The Stormcloak rebellion needs the Dragonborn. We have our own traditions and legends that we hold sacred and the Empire is ruining them. First, they outlaw worship of Talos, and our children are being born to parents who must worship in secrecy, for fear that they may not see their children grow." Ulfric met her gaze once more. "I have watched too many men and women die because they chose to whisper the name of a god they outlawed. To me, that is unjust. Now, you walk between the holds freely, but if you were not the Dragonborn, if you were someone common like Ralof, you would've lost your head long ago."

She hesitated, but her face still showed contempt. "The words you've vomited by my feet are the very same you tell to the naïve. It does not explain why you need me."

He _needed_ her, there was no doubting that. "You fit the role of protecting our beliefs and tradition, Dragonborn. Tell me what happened when you ran back to Tullius. To us, you are sacred. Can you prove that the Empire would treat you well and justly?"

Silver's eyes widened and he knew he had asked the right question. She was thinking of how to word her answer, but he could see the truth in it: she despised Tullius and the Thalmor. She wanted them gone as much as he did. "I swore to remain neutral. That is a vow I intend to keep with the Greybeards."

Ulfric groaned inwardly at her headstrong attitude. "When the world you live in is crumbling beneath your feet, will you feel the same? As long as the Greybeards can sit on that mountain, they're content with their books and legends. When the Empire knocks on their door, they will be slaughtered. When the Greybeards have been murdered, the men whom you've sworn your neutrality with, maybe then you will understand why I choose to eliminate the Empire."

Her eyes narrowed. Silver understood him now, he felt. They stared each other down, but he saw that he had earned a new respect from her. Would she remain true to her vow, he wondered.

"Be sure to wear your warmest furs. It'll be cold in the sky, especially in Windhelm." Silver raised her head high and looked to the sky once more. In that light, Ulfric felt something more primitive inside of him; she was his now, and he could make her anything he wanted her to be.

He smiled. "Of course." He turned to get ready for what would be a short trip to his city.

The sun was gone by the time he returned to her. Under the starry sky, her scales shimmered like a salmon's beneath the surface of the river on a sunny day. In awe, he stared at her. "You make a magnificent beast, Dragonborn." Silver shot a sharp look. He returned it fearlessly. "Dragons are terrible creatures, but you will be the dragon that brought a new era of peace to Skyrim."

Silver's body rose, moving away from him. "Even if you don't want me to, you'll be taking me to Windhelm. Don't make this hard on yourself." Her growl caused the ground the shiver. Hesitantly, she lowered herself and allowed him to mount the base of her neck.

He tied leather bounds across her neck and shoulders, giving himself something to hold onto. Silver pounded her powerful wings, lifting them into the air effortlessly. Ulfric dared not close his eyes as they gained elevation. He saw Skyrim in a different light during that flight. Below them were forests, nature and man comfortably dwelling in the evening as they took to the subfreezing skies.

When they flew over Whiterun, he was made breathless by the lights and dark plains. Ulfric felt Silver's head move as they flew, her eyes falling on High Hrothgar. "Do not go there," he said quickly. The purple glow rippled over her and she quivered under him. She released a growl and looked forward once more.

Suddenly, she stopped. Hovering, her great wings keeping them below clouds and from falling to their deaths. "Dragonborn, why do you stop?"

She didn't answer, her snake-like head moving back and forth as she tried to pinpoint something. The cry of another dragon brought his eyes to the source of her distress. It was flying toward them, speaking in the guttural foreign tongue.

"Braan dovah. Dreh hi yah Alduin?"

Unlike the other dragon, her voice came through as smooth. Ulfric couldn't understand their exchange as well as he would've liked, but he could tell Silver was nervous by the way her eyes were flickering between the horizon and the dragon. The dragon laughed and she moved away from it slightly. It came closer and quickly moved away at the sight of Ulfric.

"You carry a mortal? A traitor no better than Paarthurnax," it growled in the tongue Ulfric understood.

"Damn it to Oblivion, Ulfric!" Silver yelled out as she tried to fly away. She was in no way fit for combat in the sky. "Free me from this form and I could kill him!"

"And fall to our deaths? Continue to Windhelm where my men will slay the wyrm."

Silver looked at him on her back through one glowing eye. She looked forward, lips curling back into a harsh snarl. Taking a quick turn, Silver faced the laughing blood dragon. Ulfric lowered his mask and beat her to the shout. He would not let her fight in a body she had no experience with and he seemed a faster flyer than her.

"FAAS RU MAAR!"

The dragon fled. Silver turned to the direction of Windhelm and continued on. "I take it that you don't realize what you have just done, Ulfric."

"As you learn to control this new body, fighting other dragons will be no problem."

"No!" She snapped at him, powerful jaws cracking as jagged teeth collided. "That dragon will flee to Alduin and tell him of my disposition."

"A battle between dragons seems it would have more favorable chances than a dragon against a human."

"You're an arrogant fool, Ulfric." Her words were low and disappeared in the wind before they reached his ears, but he knew what she had said and chose to let it slide. He would correct her at a later time.

Silver hovered for a moment before clumsily descending into a thick blanket of snow outside of Windhelm. Ulfric climbed down from her back and pulled the fur covering his face down. Silver growled at him, "Turn me back before we get closer to the city."

Ulfric had been debating about that since they had left Markarth. If Windhelm could see the beast he controlled, then they would have more faith in their leader and the word would spread quickly through Skyrim. Then, Tullius would know the power he held. However, _if_ they knew, then they could prepare for such a devastating attack. The element of surprise would be the most beneficial. He nodded and used the Shout on her.

"KAASK JOOR DOV!"

Silver shuddered and her body flashed purple. When the light faded, she stood before him in her tunic, as she had in Markarth. Her hands were on her forearms, hugging herself. The wind blew, carrying fresh snow with it. "Ulfric," she stuttered through chattering teeth, "We–"

He took a step closer. She bristled. As vulnerable as she looked, her body stiffened and her jaw tightened.

"FUS RO DAH!"

Ulfric barely dodged the Shout. "KAASK JOOR!"

Silver stiffened, the faintest sign of a purple light casting a shine over her. Arms falling limply to her sides, her head hung slightly, she awaited his command. Ulfric felt a smile creep over his lips.

"Come here."

Silver's hands twitched. She turned to him and slowly walked toward him with uneven steps. With the distance between them gone, Ulfric removed his cloak and wrapped it around her, bundling her up as well as he could. Then, he picked her up, holding her against his chest. In only her tunic, she would catch frostbite quickly in the relentless icy winds of his land. "I don't expect this to be easy, Dragonborn. Sleep now. You'll wake where it's warm."

They stared at each other, her silver eyes bearing a faint purple hue in their glow. Her brows twitched before her eyes closed. After a few steps, her breathing had evened, telling him that his prize slept. On the back of a dragon, Windhelm had appeared a short distance away, but on the ground, the distance was great. It would take him at least an hour before he would be in his warm castle. Sighing, he began the last leg of the long journey.

* * *

 **Brynjolf**

Brynjolf sat in the shadows as Silver had commanded, but he had heard all that he needed. Ulfric needed to die for this madness to end. No longer did it seem as if he was fighting for his people; he was fighting because he enjoyed the spirit of war. If someone had asked whose side he was on months ago, he would have said Ulfric's in a heartbeat. He believed the man had an honorable and just way of ruling his hold. Yet, here before him, that man was not kingly material.

He released the arrow and cursed as it hit the rebellion leader's shoulder. Brynjolf lacked the marksmanship Silver had. What he wouldn't do for the chance to use his blade. Since they had lost all of their weapons but her bow and his sword in the Falmer's city, he felt somewhat helpless.

"KAASK!"

Brynjolf felt the tremor from the use of Ulfric's Thu'um. Blinking, Brynjolf focused on Silver, the target of the voice. She closed her eyes and when she opened them, he knew that she was no longer whom he had come to know and adore. "Nocturnal, guide me," Brynjolf prayed as he put Silver's bow on his back. Ulfric's men were headed toward him, and then there was Silver.

She stood as if there was no bolt protruding from her side. Her movements lacked the usual fluidity and confidence; instead, they were stiff and tense, as if she was hesitating or fighting against herself. Silver's eyes fell on his and he knew he was doomed. She made her way to Brynjolf, Ulfric watching her with a smile that twisted a knife in his gut. In front of him, her arms reached into the shadows attempting to find him, but her hollow voice haunted him as he pulled away to the shadows cloaking him, aching to return her reach.

"Please, Brynjolf. Leave," Her faraway voice cracked with his heart.

Nocturnal had blessed him. Swallowing him deeper into the shadows, he was pulled into the Twilight Sepulcher chambers after a moment of complete darkness. Greeted by the stifling green and purple mistiness, Brynjolf groaned as he stood. "Thank you, Lady Nocturnal," he said as clearly as he could through his stomach doing backflips. The shadow-travel had always done a number on him, and he was worried for Silver. He had abandoned her, just as he was forced to do in the mines. Quickly, he bade farewell to the Twilight Sepulcher and entered the purple portal, bringing him to the entrance of the sacred hall. Putting his hands on his knees, he leaned forward and emptied the contents of his stomach.

"Brynjolf?" Karliah's smooth voice broke him of his self-pity. He didn't attempt to straighten as a new wave of nausea washed over him. "Brynjolf, what are you doing here?"

"Perhaps I should ask you the same," he grunted as he straightened. Using his the back of his gloved hand, he wiped his mouth. He grimaced as he looked at her. "Silver is in trouble. Nocturnal saved my hide, but she..." His heart fell. Silver was in danger for the second time since they had started their journey a short time ago. As much as he wanted to run to Windhelm and confront Ulfric, he knew it would lead to a dead end and possibly his head on a stake.

"I had a feeling," Karliah said softly as she crossed her arms.

"Karliah, is that what the pull meant?" Karliah's Breton apprentice, Orroc asked. He stepped from the shadows, wearing his full set of Nightingale armor.

"Yes, Nocturnal may be indifferent to our lives, but she has placed a sacred bond between the Nightingales." Her soft voice explained to him carefully. Brynjolf concluded that the apprentice must've recently undergone the ceremony with Karliah. He grinned half-heartedly, remembering going through with it himself and the knots of disbelief speckled with anxiety he had experienced. He wondered if the Breton was as nervous as he had been.

"I see you've welcomed him into our ranks, Karliah. I wish you had consulted me," Brynjolf quipped with a frown. While he trusted Karliah's instinct, he was wary of adding their apprentices into the Nightingales.

Karliah's usual stoic face briefly showed concern. "A matter for another time. You need to tell us what happened to Silver. I can feel that something is wrong and Nocturnal has abandoned her."

Brynjolf's brow furrowed. "Nocturnal has abandoned her? Why would that happen?"

Karliah shook her head, "Nocturnal has her own reasoning. That's not for us to question. The matter is between Silver and Nocturnal."

Brynjolf sighed in resignation. Exhaustion consumed him and for the first time, his sleep deprivation caught up with him. Since Silver had first approached him, he had been anxious and he had a hard time focusing. At first, he was excited that she had come to him, but as he got to know the woman she was becoming after being away… he worried for the lass more than he had when she was away.

He recounted the details of their trip as they headed to Riften. With no rest, they made it to the Thieves Guild within a day and a half.

"Bryn, you look like you've seen a ghost," Delvin commented as the trio entered the Ragged Flagon through the Ratways. It was late in the evening, and Vekel and Delvin were the only souls in the bar. "Glad to see you back so soon."

Brynjolf gave a half-hearted smile in response. "So, what'd 'ya bring back?" The old thief was at the edge of his seat, hungry for tales of adventure, but Brynjolf felt that he had nothing to tell. He had left feeling like a new man and returned as the shadow of one.

"Nobody," he responded sadly. Karliah and Orroc continued past the pair into the Cistern. Brynjolf watched them. By the eight, he was exhausted. Delvin's puzzled expression told him that it wasn't the answer he had expected. "The ruins held no valuables."

"Damn shame." Delvin clicked his tongue. "The guild could always use the extra coin." Aged eyes looked Brynjolf over carefully before speaking once more. "I know that look in your eyes. You need sleep and sense before doing something about it."

His hand went to the back of his head, rubbing it as he grinned at his good friend. "Aye, Delvin. I'm well aware of what I need before I can get what I want."

Delvin laughed. "Take care of yourself, Bryn. See you in the mornin'."

Brynjolf continued to the Cistern to follow Karliah and Orroc. They planned to discuss the events further in the private quarters that were added to the guild for him. They were both leaning against a wall, opposite of each other in the small room.

When Karliah had first left the guild after receiving her new title, he had started building a more private section for him to do his work without being disturbed. Soon, it was filled with his belongings and a bed. While he had inherited Mercer's mansion, he felt it was empty. When he looked at that empty bed, he felt something else stir as the memories of a Dunmer clouded his vision.

Shaking it away, he brought a hand to his face and massaged away the pain in his aching eyes. He wouldn't be surprised if he started hallucinating. "Now that you've heard my story, Karliah, Do you remember hearing of anything regarding Ulfric on your travels?"

"Yes," Karliah spoke softly. "It was shortly after I was given your message about joining the Dragonborn when I heard a couple soldiers talking about how angry Tullius was. There had been talk of Ulfric heading to Markarth."

Brynjolf's hand traveled to his beard. "I'll guess that Tullius didn't give chase because it would violate the peace treaty."

"Yes," Orroc agreed. "Tullius was eager for Ulfric's blood, but he chose to rely on the word of his spies and patrols. By the time we had left, Tullius had just received word of Ulfric's disappearance into a cave. There was also word of Ulfric's passage through High Hrothgar on his way to the Reach." The apprentice was beginning to sound like his mentor.

"The Greybeards, eh?" Brynjolf crossed his arms and tried to lean back against the door. It was farther than he had anticipated, causing him to stumble. Karliah and Orroc exchanged a glance.

"Brynjolf, you need to rest now. We will discuss this further when you wake." Leaving no room to argue, the seasoned thief and her apprentice left Brynjolf in the private quarters.

By himself, Brynjolf stared at the closed door. Slowly, his arms loosened and fell to his side. Truly, he felt lost. He needed to find Silver and ensure that she was safe. Taking a seat on the bed, his hands gripped the edge as he leaned forward.

No, he did not need to save her. It was different in the Dwemer ruin. She was chained; incoherent as she overcame what he thought was withdrawal from her elixir. While recovering, taking those potions prepared by the Falmer prisoners had rendered her completely helpless. Even when she had fallen asleep against him, it didn't take long before she was struggling. His attempts to wake her were futile, as they had only aggravated her further. He hadn't slept; he spent his time trying to stop her from clawing his eyes out and screaming.

Of all the time she had spent in Thieves Guild, he had been spoiled by her happiness. He had seen the woman who laughed and listened with a kind smile. He had seen the woman who relaxed in trusted company, returning to him like a joyful pup seeking praise after a successful mission. He had not seen the woman who held so many ill memories that turned her mind into a mess, making every observer her enemy. The guild had shown her a betrayal she hadn't felt before. She had entered Skyrim with a clean slate and its people were marking her up.

Silently, he vowed to show her the good Skyrim could give her. He would travel with her and ensure her safety as best he could. The thought of knowing he could help her get over her traumas eased his mind just enough.

The instant his eyes closed, Brynjolf succumbed to a deep sleep. His last thought lingered on the woman he had to keep pinned to the ground as she cried out, begging him not to rape her. If he could help it, she would never have to go through another ordeal such as that.

* * *

 _A/N: The story is going to head in a dark direction._


	11. Chapter 11

**Silver**

"Dovahkiin," the voice of the man from the Nordic ruin stirred her.

Her eyes fluttered open for just a moment. Nuzzling her face into the top of her hand, she didn't want to move. The feeling of a gentle handing combing through her hair made her feel safe and content. Her torso was resting atop his thigh with the tops of her hands cushioning her face from the rough cloth of his pants. He was sitting back against a wall, the leg she rested on was stretched out straight while the other leg was bent, knee even with the center of his chest. What she wouldn't give to keep the contentment and warmth she felt.

"You know that you are dreaming?"

Once more, her eyes opened. Lifting her head slightly, she turned to the man whose leg she occupied. Of course it was a dream. It wasn't the tenderness Brynjolf showed in each stroke of her hair that hinted it, but it was simply his presence. He was someplace else in reality. Blinking, she relaxed on his leg and looked at the man from the ruins. "It seems so," she slurred.

The Dragon Priest clicked his tongue. "That man will slowly eat your willpower. Each time he uses the Word on you, you will come to this paradise while your body does what he commands."

"Why the change of heart, priest? You told me yourself that you were one of Alduin's minions. What makes you believe that I have faith in your word?" Silver tried to pronounce her words as best she could, but her tongue behaved as if she had drank a keg of ale.

"Alduin did not appreciate my work. I had hoped he would return to me once he came back to this plane, but he did not. Knowing that I aided in his murder is enough to sate my desire for his blood."

"And once again I'm running errands for the people of Skyrim," she drawled.

"You may sit here pitying yourself all you want, but if you wish to see the man you seem to," he paused to look at her imaginary conjuration of Brynjolf. "If you wish to see this man whom you hold such affection for, then it would be in your best interest not to let Ulfric use my Word on you."

Her hands balled into fists. The warmth was beginning to recede. Reluctantly, she began to sit up. Brynjolf disappeared, leaving a hole in her heart. "Explain yourself," Silver said quietly. Her eyes finally met his honestly.

"The true power in the Word isn't the temporary power he holds over you. The power lies in how often he uses it. 'Kaask' will create a permanent cage around your mind. It'll keep you trapped in your paradise while in reality he would be commanding you to do whatever he pleases. If he continues to use it on you, your body will become a shell and you will remain here.

"The same goes for when you are a dragon. You may regain your free will as a dragon, but you will remain in that form. There is no doubt that eventually you would grow to hate Skyrim and its people, eventually becoming the equivalent of Alduin."

"How do you know if you were never able to use the Word?" Silver felt a familiar cold beginning to consume her toes and finger. She looked at her hands. Soon she would wake up. Longingly, she looked where Brynjolf had been.

"I created the word with the intent to bring the Dovahkiin under permanent control. It was meant to be cruel, to show that they would be losing their sanity. Soon, you will crave this paradise and seek Ulfric to release you from the world's cruelty. You may have already realized that he merely needs to tell you what to do and you feel yourself being pulled to obey. The power of the Word is eternal." The old Dunmer priest put his index and middle finger below his eye. "Look at your eyes, Dovahkiin. See the power's hold on you."

Silver squinted as he began to fall out of focus. "How…?"

In an instant, the world faded and she felt herself return. The ache in her muscles and the warmth from the blankets made her immediately exhausted. She had just slept, hadn't she? Slowly, she opened her eyes to the candlelit room, the smell of fresh wax and bread mixing in the air pleasantly.

In a small bed, she lay staring at the candle on the nightstand. A wardrobe was against the wall, and a chest at the bottom of the bed. It was a small guestroom at the Palace of Kings. Her fingers curled, combing through the soft furs below them. Turning to the ceiling, she closed her eyes.

With no desire to move, Silver felt herself longing to return to the imaginary world. The Dragon Priest was right, she thought. The sound of footsteps brought her back to reality. A gentle click came from the door, followed by a squeak from the hinges as it opened.

"Please tell Ulfric that I wish to speak with him." Her voice was soft. The maid approached her with quiet steps. The woman touched Silver's forehead and cheek.

"Certainly, Dragonborn." Her voice was as gentle as her touch. Silver found herself taking comfort in the caring, calloused hands. "First, I must make sure you are well. When you arrived, frostbite had threatened you. Ulfric had several furs wrapped around you, but the blizzard seemed to pierce them as if they didn't exist."

No, it wasn't the short journey on foot, Silver thought. The kind woman began massaging Silver's hands. As a dragon, Silver had felt the cold cut her skin as well as any steel could. She was not a frost dragon, she had angrily told herself during flight. Her body was warm under the bitter cold, but she knew it would take its toll on her when she returned to her natural skin. Then, again, flight felt natural too. Was she meant to be confined to two legs?

"Let me help you dress and we will go see the Jarl."

Carefully, they cooperated to get Silver into a simple dress similar to the one she had in the dream and a pair of thick, warm fur boots. The dress sat on her shoulders, dipping low to show her collarbones. The breeze on her neck made her shiver, her waist-length hair offered her little protection against the cold that drifted through the Windhelm castle. The dress was made of a thick linen, but it could not shield her from the cold breaths that crept through the palace.

The maid removed the fur from the top layer of the bed and Silver realized it was a cloak. She wrapped the cloak tightly around herself and left the room, following the maid. The cloak was long enough to reach the lower end of her calves, only the bottom hem of her dress showing to hint that something lie beneath the fur.

A guard was posted outside of the door. "Go and tell the Jarl that the Dragonborn will be there to see him shortly," the maid told the guard as they left the room. The guard hurried off toward the main hall. Silver watched him, somewhat dazed.

Silently, the pair made their way to Ulfric's private chambers. The closer they came, the more her heart fell and her stomach quaked, the contents threatening to spill from her lips. They entered and the maid quickly left, closing the door behind her. That left Ulfric and a shivering Dragonborn alone. The recollection of his lips colliding with hers made her face feel ablaze.

Silver stared at him, void of expression as best she could. Her mind was still buzzing between reality and dream. He stared back at her, arching an eyebrow with the hint of a smile. "Do you understand now?"

"I do," she responded solemnly. She moved her gaze to his window. Did he understand what the shout did to her?

It was evening. Time seemed to blend together. "I have a request, Ulfric." He nodded, ushering her to continue. "Do not use the Thu'um on me. We will settle this after Alduin is defeated. Until then, let me enjoy my freedom."

He straightened and his brow furrowed. "I have a condition if I am to abide by such a request; I will travel with you." Slowly, he closed the distance between them. Silver stared up at him. He towered over her, yet she stood strong.

If she refused, would he use the Word on her? Was it worth the risk? "Would you force me to allow it?" Her voice dripped venom. She made no effort to move as a hand touched her chin and tilted her head upward slightly. He leaned down, looking for something in her eyes. The heat in her face returned, but she remained stoic.

"The agreement would be more powerful if it was of your own accord."

It took her a moment to understand that he didn't want to use the Word until battle. Bringing him to Windhelm was a test. The true use would be for after Alduin was defeated. The best way to ensure that she would not be lost after the battle? He would join her and make sure she could not flee from him.

"You may not have another companion, either." Silver bit her tongue at his demand. Damned Nord was reading her mind. It would be better that way, she told herself, trying to comfort the anxiety. She would be endangering Brynjolf.

"I will respect that, but I need to meet him."

Ulfric blinked, breaking the stare. "And from there?"

"We travel to Sovngarde."

Ulfric bristled and his hand moved from her chin somewhat. She kept her head in the same position. Silver felt his hand move and began panicking, going against her every instinct to defend herself. Instead, she maintained eye contact with him. His hand was too close to her neck. "Odahviing, one in Alduin's ranks, promised to take me there. Alduin resides in Sovngarde, eating souls to recover from my recent fight with him. I was seeking to make myself as powerful as I could before facing him for the last time."

Ulfric's hands moved to his side and he took a step back. He visibly relaxed. "Then I'll trust you," he nodded with a solemn voice.

"I need to prepare for the trip, first. I need to go to Riften and then to Falkreath, and finally to Whiterun, where Odahviing is being held," Silver explained. Her words were slow and clear.

"We'll leave as soon as you're ready." Ulfric held a blank expression, but there was warmth in his voice, which she was grateful for. "Go rest now. You're pale for a dark elf."

"Why are you suddenly kind?" Silver whispered as she watched him turn away from her.

"Soon, this war will be over and it will be thanks to you. For that, I am thankful." He partially turned toward her. "I realize that this is against your will, but when it is done, we will settle it like true warriors."

Her lips pursed. They were going to fight one-on-one, undoubtedly until death greeted one or the other. "If you die, the land you've worked to build will deteriorate. That's counterproductive."

"Not to the death. Only a friendly duel," he smiled. Silver felt her heart skip a beat and eyes widen. His smile was uncharacteristic. Ulfric had brought the circumstances upon himself, but his life was a hard one. She had never seen him smile in such a way. Always, he wore a serious frown and the occasional forced laugh. Where had her desire to see him in a pool of his own blood gone? Where did her growing hatred of him go?

Silver returned his smile, catching him off guard judging by how his face faltered. "If you remain honest with me, Ulfric, I will be honored to assist you."

Perhaps it was the Word altering her as the priest had warned, but she felt that Ulfric had good reasoning for his actions. She would forgive him for using the Thu'um, assuming that he would be true to his word. The recollection of reading the Thalmor's notes on him made her cringe and look away from him. Yes, he had good reason to despise the Thalmor and the Empire that worked with them.

"Now go, Dragonborn."

"Stop calling me that," Silver said harshly as she turned and left. Just before the door closed, she heard his response.

"See you in the morning, Silver."

Making her way to her room, Silver was eager to sleep. When he wasn't being forceful, he was a good man, she thought. On the bed, she didn't bother getting under the furs or undressing. Curling up, she fell asleep shortly after.

When she woke, she washed her face and headed to the main hall. She wore the same simple dress under the fur cloak and braided her hair over her shoulder. Upon entering, Jorleif greeted her, "Nice to see you awake." He was sitting at the end of the table closest to the throne, eating buttered bread with eggs and potatoes that looked perfectly roasted.

Excitedly, Silver took a seat across from him and began helping herself, mostly to the potatoes. They were her favorite food and an eternity had passed since she had eaten a true meal. She had to stop and think about the last time she ate. Glancing at her hands, it seemed as if her wrists were smaller. It would explain why she had felt incredibly weak. Inhaling the nutrients, she looked forward to recovering her strength.

"Ulfric went on quite the journey to bring you here," Jorleif spoke evenly, but she could tell he meant well by the lighthearted laugh.

Silver only nodded. If Ulfric behaved the same way he had the evening before while they traveled together, they would have no problems. Until that proved to be the case, she would be wary of him. "And we'll be leaving again today," Ulfric responded as he approached the table. He took a seat beside Silver and began piling food onto his plate as a maid refilled their cups.

She only glanced at him as she indulged in her favorite food. Nothing was worth the distraction from the heaven on her tongue. Soon, Galmar had joined them, along with a few others Ulfric considered close. They were smiling and exchanged stories animatedly with one another. Ulfric occasionally laughed or added small encouragements.

"And what do you plan to do with her now?" Galmar boldly questioned when the conversations died, staring at her as he spoke to Ulfric.

"We have an agreement. Once Alduin is defeated, she will help us bring down the Empire." He said it so casually, that Silver questioned whether or not her freedom was on the line. He made it sound easy and she felt a hatred for him begin to take root in her very soul.

"We'll be risking her turning her back on us? Her reluctance to join the cause should be enough to tell you that she's not worth it. Putting your faith in this elf is not a good idea," Galmar growled, carefully pronouncing his last few words.

"You have good reason to doubt her, friend. You must take my word for it right now, however. You'll see it another time." Ulfric flashed a smile at Galmar. Galmar stared at Ulfric. Galmar's brow furrowed and his jaw was clenched.

Silver, deciding that silence would be her solace, brought a cup to her lips and drank the sweet snowberry and jazbay grape juice. When she lowered the empty cup, Galmar was glaring daggers at her. Words hovered on the tip of her tongue, but she bit them back. There was no need to start a quarrel if she were meant to work with him in the future.

"Galmar," Ulfric's dangerously low voice threatened. "Stand. Down."

A staring contest ensued between the two. Silver was the first to close her eyes when she flinched from Galmar slamming his fists. She clicked her tongue and watched him go. Stubborn man.

"I sent some leather armor to your room. When you're finished, we'll head to the stables."

Silently, Silver left the hall. It wasn't until she was in the room she had noticed that she had obeyed him. The moment he spoke, her mind became sharp, searching for his words and eager to oblige. Wide eyes stared at the light armor. Had he noticed? Sighing, she tried to put herself at ease by telling herself that he didn't know. If he had, perhaps he did it unknowingly. Ulfric hadn't worded it as a command, but her body willed her to carry it out as if it were one.

Putting on the thick leather armor, she felt significantly less vulnerable. Pulling the dense fur cloak over her shoulders, she left the room and headed for the main hall where she waited for Ulfric. Taking a seat on the stairs near the throne, she absently toyed with the braid in her hand. It would be her first time traveling without a hood. Her eyes caught on her shining hair like a fish on a hook.

Skyrim was not the native home of the Dunmers. The few she had seen did not have silver hair like hers or eyes that were bright. Most had red eyes, Karliah being an exception with her violet orbs. Their hair could be gray, and ebony, but her hair shined like the fine metal. Why was she different? They were features she had before realizing she was the Dragonborn, and she wondered if perhaps she wasn't fully Dunmer.

Before she was the Dragonborn... It wasn't something she often thought of. Silver wondered if the person she was would be happy with who she had become. Her wandering throughts would have usually been brought to an abrupt halt caused by her elixir. Having them run rampant in her mind made her feel unsettled. What was stopping her from making more of the elixir?

"This is the first time I have seen you look thoughtful," Ulfric's voice resounded in the hall. She turned her head toward him, her hand dropping the silky braid on her shoulder. "You were panicked and lively when I saw you after Helgen, but our encounters after that showed you to be sharp, as if you held no other thoughts besides what was in front of you." He was wearing armor that wasn't clearly decorated to show his status, but it was heavy and the cloaks her wore made him seem larger.

"Why do you say that?" Silver stood. He held out an ebony bow and quiver for her. Graciously, she took them and put them on.

He put a hand on his beard and hummed in thought before answering. "Much like when I first saw you in Helgen. You were thinking, but there was something missing..."

She frowned, not understanding what he was implying. "It doesn't matter," she turned toward the doors. "Let's get going. I have to meet with my friend as soon as possible." He stood a moment before following her.

It was a rare sunny day in Windhelm. Silver was grateful for the light. It felt as if it had been ages since she had enjoyed it. Their steeds rocked them gently, hooves penetrating new layers of snow from the night before. It was rare to see the trails with no trace of life on them, almost eerie. "Who is this friend?" Ulfric asked.

She was reminded of the few days Brynjolf and her had rode side-by-side on their way to the Dwemer ruin. She smiled, remembering the laughter they shared but then frowned as she thought of his apprentice, Larehil. "He was with me in the ruin." _And he is with his apprentice now, I'm sure._

"When you stopped in the shadows, what had happened?"

"You told me to get rid of him." She hesitated. Did he need to know about her dealing with the Daedric Prince of the Thieves Guild? Did he need to know anything about the guild? Her frown deepened. If she expected his honesty, how could she not reciprocate it? She looked at him, blue eyes locking on hers. "Ulfric, I'm being completely honest with you. While we travel, I will be an open book you can consult as you see fit, but keep in mind that you may not like what you hear. You expect me to be a hero, and in your eyes after some stories, I may be anything but."

"Don't be dramatic." His voice was low.

She looked away, suddenly aware of the icy breeze on her face. Her ears were beginning to feel cold as they peaked out of her loosely bound hair. "Brynjolf is his name. You may know it," she began. Her voice continued in the frosty air, leaving trails of mist from the warmth of her breath. Silver told Ulfric the story of the Thieves Guild and what had happened to them, how she had helped them regain their glory, and finally how she served the Daedric Prince, Nocturnal. "That was how he escaped," she concluded, "Nocturnal abandoned me and consumed him in shadow."

Her eyes wandered to the shadow of her horse and its mount. The shadows did not call to her; Nocturnal still had not returned to her. Silver would have to plead with the prideful Daedra for such a blessing again.

"If you had joined my forces from the beginning, you would not have needed to stoop so low just to make a few septims." His voice rivaling the bite of the icy wind startled her. "Your alchemy would be even greater, training under the best, and your archery would be in the songs, aided by the help of the best marksmen. Why do you return to such a place?"

"Do you forget that you have a bunch of dark elves roaming your city in pain and seclusion because you refuse to pay them mind until your war is won?" She snapped in return. "Sure, I passed your test, but then you wanted to attack Whiterun, as you've been planning for a long time, and I wanted nothing to do with that. Whiterun is my home. It's more my home than your damn city ever will be!"

Hooves hitting the soft blanket of snow strummed the thick tension in the air. They were holding each other's gaze, neither daring to look away. "I only meant to offer you a better life. You wouldn't have to worry about betrayal."

"That's not true," she said quietly, brow furrowing. "Galmar is ready to pounce like a sabre on an elk. If I ever turn my back on him in the field, he would cut me down where I stood. Who is to say that you won't end up using your Thu'um on me before our agreement is met? Or even that you'll release me?"

"I wouldn't let him," he said simply. "You are important to our cause. He will see that." His lack of an answer for her other questions made her brow twitch.

"After you've turned me into a dragon and a slave to your words!" Her whisper was harsh.

"Silver, I promised you freedom after the war."

"That means nothing until you prove it. I see the way you look at me as if I were a mountain of gold. I know that you don't plan to harm me, but what's to stop you from using me to intimidate those against you after the war. Did you forget that the war doesn't end in a day; it happens when the last rebel has lost their will to fight. Thankfully, I'm no immortal and I won't be there to clean up your wars for eternity," she scoffed, her voice full of scorn.

"Let me make it clear that I am honoring the peace treaty to put _you_ at ease. I don't wish to torture you."

"Could've fooled me," she growled. "Don't make it sound like I owe you something you don't deserve."

They shared a sharp look before she pointedly looked forward. It was going to be a long three days until they reached Riften. Her want to see him murdered by her own blade had returned. What was stopping her?


	12. Chapter 12

**Brynjolf**

Silver eyes met his as he regained his senses. She was leaning over him as he lay in his bed. A hand was on his forehead while the other was on his hand. The warmth from her touch eased the weariness he felt. In the dim candlelight, he could see the worry that creased her brow.

She slowly removed her hand from his forehead as he propped himself up on his elbows. She leaned back, sitting in the chair that was set up beside his bed. She had been watching over him. Brynjolf sat himself up, straightening his back as he stared at her. She was watching him carefully. He gave her a crooked smile, "I didn't think I'd see you again."

"Did you think I would just lie down and die?" she asked with a smirk, leaving no trace of worry on her face. She must've had some mead, he thought. Silver always became testy when she drank.

Brynjolf reached out for her, his hand touching her cheek gently. Silver stared at him with wide eyes. It took her a moment, but she closed her eyes and leaned into his hand with a soft smile. In as quick as a flicker of the candle lit by his bedside, he had his free hand on her other cheek and he had pulled her into a kiss. Stiffness melted into passion as she returned his kiss. She tasted differently than he remembered. Prying himself away, he rested his forehead against hers and gently stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. Despite his stinging eyes and stomach pains, he felt at peace.

"Silver, you made me worry again," his sleep-laden voice cracked. He couldn't imagine a better way to wake up.

Her breath was caught. He pulled away to look at her and felt his stomach turn to stone. Golden irises stared at him, wide with a vast mix of emotions. Her features twisted from confusion to anger, and then to hurt. Larehil slapped his hands away and leaned back against the chair. She sat with her back straight and crossed her arms.

The back of Brynjolf's right hand instinctively went to his mouth. He had just kissed his apprentice and she had returned it. Staring at him, her mouth curved into a deep frown. "Brynjolf's up," she called out.

"Thank the gods!" Karliah entered with her apprentice, Orroc, after a short time. "Brynjolf, do you remember anything from the past few days?"

His panicked eyes were still on Larehil as he spoke, "Care to jog my memory?"

Their relationship was going to change. He had denied that she cared for him in that way, and was relieved when she denied it. He had enjoyed making Silver jealous, but it was the most enjoyment he had taken from his relationship with Larehil. He felt a mixture of guilt and sadness eating away at his insides.

Larehil occupied the only chair in the small quarters. Karliah stood by the bed, and Orroc leaned against the wall beside the closed door, as if guarding the room. The first time Brynjolf became the stand-in guildmaster while Karliah went away, he had a small, private room built for him that branched from the Cistern. Karliah had given him the key to Mercer's manor, but he never dared go near it. He had tried to stay the night there once, but the manor was empty and the bed made him ache for a certain Dunmer.

"Orroc and I found you vomiting outside the home of the Twilight Sepulcher. You had been mumbling something about Silver needing to escape and how you had to get to Windhelm. You fainted shortly after and were in and out of consciousness. You were sleep-deprived and incredibly malnourished, Brynjolf." Karliah was scolding him like a mother would her child.

Was it that bad? He didn't remember fainting. In fact, he thought he could recall the entire journey to the guild. He and Silver had lost most of their supplies in the Dwemer ruin because he hadn't been able to carry it all. They would've been fine with no food, but their weapons couldn't be left behind. It couldn't have been more than three days since he had eaten. Sleep-deprived? That was certainly true. He had slept as little as possible. When he had finally gotten Silver out of the Dwemer ruins, her terrors woke him in a matter of minutes after he had fallen asleep.

His thought of Silver caused him to cast a glance at the fuming Larehil. She was still glaring at him. They didn't look alike, he thought angrily, feeling betrayed by his mind. Larehil's cheekbones were high and her face was far more angular, bearing features common amongst the Bosmer folk. Her hair was worn as several braids, pulled back into a ponytail. She was a beautiful woman, but he didn't see her as anything more than a business acquaintance.

"We've been waiting for you to tell us what happened," Karliah interrupted his thoughts. She put her hands on her hips expectantly. "What happened to Silver?"

Brynjolf ran a hand down his face and groaned in frustration. He had been out for three days. That meant that Silver could've been killed by that man three days ago. No, he reassured himself, Ulfric needed her for something, so her life wasn't in danger.

"You're familiar with Ulfric Stormcloak?"

"Yes," Orroc and Karliah answered.

"He was after Silver," Brynjolf began. He realized that Silver hadn't explained the significance of the Word they were seeking. All he knew was that it was important to her. If it was what Ulfric had used on her, then he knew it forced her to do Ulfric's bidding.

He went on to explain what he had witnessed before Nocturnal pulled him through the shadows, rescuing him from whatever Ulfric would have done to him. The details about the Dwemer ruins seemed irrelevant to the tale of the Nordic ruin, but he did mention how they knew they had been followed into the ruins and it forced them to go deeper, rather than turn around when the going got tough.

"I often forget that she's the Dragonborn," Karliah said softly.

"That's easy to do," Brynjolf responded. "There's also been some time since her last visit. During your travels, did you hear anything about Ulfric's movements?"

Karliah and Orroc exchanged a glance. "We were in Solitude when we received your letter," Karliah said thoughtfully. "I wasn't looking for any information, so I paid little mind to the political state of Skyrim. As long as the coin is flowing, I have no need to dabble in the art."

"Some of the soldiers spoke of Ulfric being on the move," Orroc added to Karliah's statement. "They knew he had left Windhelm, but not his destination. A few days later, when we were getting ready to leave Solitude, I heard the guards talking about how Ulfric had stopped by High Hrothgar."

Brynjol's eyes narrowed, "Silver swore the vow of neutrality to the Greybeards. If anyone knew what her goal was in that ruin, it was them."

"If she truly is the Dragonborn, then you shouldn't feel like you need to protect her," Larehil scowled. "If the stories I've heard about her are true, then she probably slit his throat already."

"You don't know her like we do, Larehil," Brynjolf snapped.

"No, I don't," Larehil shrugged. "What I do know is that it takes an extraordinary woman to take your heart." She rolled her shoulders and looked to Karliah and Orroc expectantly. Brynjolf stared at her, flabbergasted.

Karliah mimicked Brynjolf's expression as she stared at Larehil. "Larehil, that's none of our business."

"It's my business now. I want to know more about her." Larehil stared at Brynjolf as if he were a piece of meat. "Every time I've asked about her, my questions get shrugged off. And you," Larehil leaned forward, pointing her index at Brynjolf, "You don't even respond to the questions. You swat them away like an angry cat. She saved the guild, yet nobody wants to talk about her?"

"That was her request," Karliah responded in a low tone. "The least we could do is honor it, after all she has done for us."

"Thieves typically seek glory," Larehil commented nonchalantly.

"She is barely a thief by nature," Brynjolf snapped at her. "Thank you, Karliah and Orroc, for bringing me home, but I need to catch up on my sleep before this conversation goes any further. All of you, get out of my room. I'll meet you all in the Cistern or Ragged Flaggon after I've had a good rest."

The room stilled and they left him after some hesitation. Lying down, he made himself comfortably and stared at the door. Of all the women for him to hallucinate into Silver, it had to be Larehil. He could understand Karliah, because at least she resemble Silver as a fellow Dunmer, but _not_ Larehil. Her hot-headedness would never let him forget it. Not only that, but she cared for him in a way he couldn't return. The Bosmer would add to the guilt looming over his mind. No person deserved to have their heart toyed with in such a manner.

He decided that he would apologize when he didn't feel the ache of sleep to the very core of his being. Closing his eyes, he gave into his drowsiness as the image of Silver flitted through his thoughts.

Brynjolf awoke feeling ready to take on the world. His mind was still weary as it worried for Silver, but his body felt refreshed and all that remained were the pains of hunger. With his journey with Silver considered concluded, he promised himself a bath in the manor he had inherited. But first, he thought eagerly, food and company awaited him.

He exited his room to the Cistern where Vipir and a couple of new recruits were practicing with their bows. Thryrnn was standing close by, watching the newbies, conversing with Sapphire. Brynjolf was happy to see the guild busy with some activities and helping each other; it was proof that the guild was seeing better days. He scanned the area for Karliah, Orroc, or Larehil and did not find them. Assuming they would be in the Ragged Flaggon, he waved to his guildmates and moved through the Cistern to its entrance.

In the Ragged Flaggon, seated at a table in front of the bar was Delvin, Karliah, Orroc, and Larehil, as he expected. Brynjolf pulled a chair over and joined them after placing an order of food with Vekel.

"Well, if it isn't sleeping beauty," Delvin chuckled.

"How long was I out?" Brynjolf asked, his brows raised. It felt as if he had only blinked and then he was awake.

"A solid day and a half," Larehil answered. She was leaning forward over her plate, picking at some stubborn chicken meat clinging to the bone.

"Has there been any news?" Vekel dropped the plate off in front of Brynjolf before the others answered. He thanked Vekel and began shoveling the chicken, potatoes, carrots, and leeks into his mouth as if it were the first time he had seen food.

Brynjolf caught the glance Karliah and Orroc shared. "We received some news from Markarth, but we're not sure what to make of it," Orroc said carefully. The Breton apprentice was beginning to sound like his mentor, Karliah.

"Go on," Brynjolf urged him.

"There was news of a dragon taking Ulfric on its back and carrying him to Windhelm. Nobody saw the dragon land, but Ulfric returned to his castle with the Dragonborn in his arms," Karliah sounded confused and unsure. "It sounds like a story from a bar, but we heard the same account from two different people. One from Markarth, and another from Windhelm, the two stories were brought to us less than a day apart."

Brynjolf felt his stomach turn to iron. Straightening, he looked at Karliah, "I believe it." They looked at him in surprise. Ulfric's words made sense to him in that moment.

" _You don't think you may have a better chance as a dragon?" Ulfric sneered._

"We were racing to the pit of the ruins for the Thu'um and Ulfric beat us to it. Whatever power it holds, it must turn her into a dragon," Brynjolf concluded aloud. Damned dragon language. He hadn't the first clue of what it was or how to understand it. It was gibberish to him. "It also gives him a certain power over her. If all it did was turn her into a dragon, then I don't think she would have shown such hatred for him."

"Are you telling us that Ulfric has a dragon in his army now?" Delvin stared, but his features were hard. Delvin was more connected in the political world. It was valuable information, no doubt.

Brynjolf hesitated. The Dragonborn was already a target, and her being seen with Ulfric could cause more tension between Tullius and Ulfric. The treaty would be broken soon, he predicted. "Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying," Brynjolf finally agreed, swallowing a mouthful of food that turned to sand.

"That doesn't mean much for the guild," Karliah commented. "Wartime means that we can offer information to both sides. It gives us more opportunity for coin"

Larehil's stare caught Brynjolf's. They locked eyes. "What're you gonna do, Bryn?"

He leaned back and crossed his arms. He glanced around the table before sighing. His mind was racing, shouting all the possibilities of her predicament at him, but he refused to give in to them. Silver was a capable warrior. She didn't need saving. Ulfric needed her, thus she would be kept alive. Wondering what Ulfric would do to her while keeping her alive, made him ill.

Brynjolf smiled sadly. What if she was chained up like she had been in the Dwemer ruin? Even then, he was certain that she could have broken herself out of there after another day or so. "I'll wait for her to return."

"She is certainly capable," Karliah said. "The divines hold her dear to her hearts based on her luck alone. Without Nocturnal, however, I worry for her," her voice fell into a dejected tone.

"Then, it's probably best that we distract ourselves before she comes back around," Larehil smirked as she continued picking at the white meat on her plate. Her golden eyes switched to Brynjolf once more. "How about it, _mentor_? Go for a job or two and when we get back, she'll probably be here waiting for you."

It was nice to see Larehil behaving as she always had. Going for a couple of jobs would keep his mind occupied. He would have to remind himself to speak with her before they left, however. "That sounds like a fine idea. Karliah, how long will you be in Riften?"

Karliah smiled at her old friend. "Until I hear of Silver's wellbeing. If I get any news, I'll pass it along as soon as possible."

Brynjolf returned her smile and looked at Larehil, "Which jobs did you pick up?"

"Maven wants us to go intimidate a few farms nearby. They're working together to begin harvesting honey. She wants Goldenglow to be the only one in the area shipping out honey."

Brynjolf shrugged, "That's Maven for you. Ready to go, lass?" Larehil beamed at him. He was thankful for his full belly, the strength he regained from the meal, and good night's rest. Knowing that he could do something other than sulk around the guild made him feel better about waiting for Silver to happen by _if_ she returned to Riften. It was a welcome distraction.

They left a short time later. It was an easy job and close to Riften. They didn't have to pack much of anything. They brought only their weapons and basic essentials for a day's outing. As they departed the city, Brynjolf waved at the guards, remembering that they were the unfortunate pair collecting the "visitor's tax" for Maven.

"Larehil, I owe you an apology," Brynjolf finally said as he turned away from the guards. The sun on his skin was a welcome feeling. It had been too long since he had felt it. Closing his eyes, he basked in the warmth until a crisp autumn breeze chilled the air. It was the perfect day for a job.

"Damn right, you do," she spat at him. Her golden eyes were narrow with fury.

"I was hallucinating. I thought you were…" He hesitated. She knew who he thought she was, but yet he felt uncertain about telling her.

"Yes, yes, I know." She turned toward him, stopping in front of him. He stopped, meeting her fiery gaze. "What was with all that flirtation before you left? I thought you meant it!"

"That's how I work, Larehil. I didn't mean to cause a misunderstanding." He was remorseful. He hadn't realized the toll it took on her, but he had done it with no ill intent. Before Silver had approached him at the Ragged Flaggon, he was beginning to look at Larehil in a new light. However, the moment he left with the Dunmer, so had any thought of his apprentice. "It wasn't meant to go any further."

Her eyes widened and her shoulders slouched. He was all too familiar with the look of rejection she wore. "When Silver gets here, you can bet that I'll let her know exactly what happened," she growled, straightening once more. Her chin was raised slightly, "Unless you want to tell her yourself."

He shot her a look of malice as he stepped around her and continued walking. "I'll let her know when she isn't carrying the world on her shoulders."

"You tried it before she carried those burdens!"

He turned toward her, his jaw clenched and hands turned into a fist. She had stepped over an invisible boundary. "Larehil, it would be better if you dropped it," Brynjolf's voice dipped into a dangerous low. "That is a personal affair between the Dragonborn and myself. Not you."

Closing the distance between them, Larehil stood within her arm's length of him. "It became a problem the moment you kissed me and then had the audacity to whisper the name of another woman. It's disrespectful and a simple 'sorry' won't fix the hurt you've caused me."

He glared at the Bosmer. "Then what would you have me do, Larehil?"

Grabbing his guild armor, Larehil pulled him to her and forcefully kissed him. Rigged as a rock, Brynjolf froze, unable to respond. He hadn't been approached by a woman so boldly in a long time. It was admirable and made him feel as if he still had his old charms. But it wasn't the woman he sought. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he gently pushed her away.

Larehil smirked as she locked eyes with him. "You may want to be rid of me, but I won't let you. When Silver is here, I'll let her know. She could be the High Queen of Skyrim, and I would still give her a piece of my mind." She took a step back and crossed her arms. "While she's away, I'll do everything I can to make you look at me and see someone you want."

Feisty, temperamental, and stubborn. He certainly knew how to pick them, he thought. Shaking his head, he frowned. "I'll discourage you the whole way, Larehil. Let's finish this job quickly." He continued walking, exhaustion creeping into his mind. He had just woken up and already, he felt drained.

He wasn't worried about what Larehil could tell Silver. If there came a time when he could tell her, he would. However, what he feared was that the news would wreck the fragile relationship him and Silver shared. It was simple when she was a thief and visited often, but with her in and out of town, rarely seeing her, he tended to avoid her, or rather, she would avoid him.

Silver placed her duty to Skyrim far above anything else on her list of priorities. He wished that she would put him near the top. If she didn't, then perhaps Larehil had somewhat of a point. Perhaps he could return to messing around with the local women and occasional travelers without guilt. He had waited for her, but he was beginning to question the point of it. For the first time, he wondered why.

In the Dwemer ruin, she was so wrapped up in getting the Word, that he was sure she would have been perfectly content on the journey by herself.

Looking at the lake, he stared at Goldenglow Estate. He and Silver needed to talk. Anxiety pooled in the pit of his stomach, making him feel ill as he began working out exactly what he would say to the Dragonborn.


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N: Another chapter where I just absolutely struggled over getting what I wanted to portray perfectly on paper. I'm still a bit unsatisfied, but I did it!_

 **Silver & Ulfric**

It had been a long three days. On the first night, Silver had tried to run away, but Ulfric had caught her. He forced her to share his bedroll for the remaining two nights to prevent her from planning another escape. She did her best to ignore Ulfric for the short journey, but once in a while he would command her to answer him. Although she tried to hold her tongue, the Word would creep through her veins and her voice would slip from her unwilling lips.

"How long will we be in Riften?" Ulfric's tired voice asked. She wondered if them sharing a bedroll was taking a toll on him as well. She couldn't remember the last time she had a good night's rest.

"One day. We leave after a night's rest at the Bee and Barb," Silver responded, exhausting crept through the cracks in her voice. Her eyes caught his as he turned his head to look at her. "If you don't mind, my Jarl," Silver spat his title as if it were spoiled milk, "I would prefer some privacy while we're in the city."

His eyes narrowed and she could see him about to refuse. However, a new light shined in his eyes and he faced forward. "Very well. But when your business is finished, return to me and we'll leave."

Silver felt the eerie sensation of the command crawl through her mind. Her lips curled back to reveal her teeth as if she were snarling, "You know that you have power over me without using the Thu'um."

He looked at her with half of a cocky smile. "Did you think I was asleep when you tried to kill me last night?"

It had been their third and final night when she was ready to explode with rage. She was fed up with him playing with the wording of his sentences, seemingly experimenting with what he could get away with. It reminded her of a child trying to test the parents' boundaries on rules. On that particular night, he had fallen asleep facing her, and she had turned to face him when she heard his breathing change into deep, relaxed breaths. When she was confident that he was asleep, she pulled the dagger from its sheath on her arm and held it to his throat. Just as Silver applied the pressure and was about to slit his throat, her body had become immobile. She tried taking the blade away and was able to do so, but the moment the fine steel touched his flesh, she could no longer move. After pulling away a second time, she tried once more and then resigned to her fate. She was doomed to follow and be commanded by the rebellion leader like a dog.

She thought she had gotten away with it because she hadn't seen him stir. For the first time since he had met the dark elf, he saw resignation with a mixture of sadness as she averted her stunned gaze to her steed's mane. Ulfric found some enjoyment in tormenting the girl, but the way her shoulders fell, her eyes softened, and her lips fell into a deep frown gave him a hint of guilt. She was more animated than when he had first met her and it was enjoyable to see sides of her that he knew no others would see. Through his actions toward her, he realized that he had come to hold a grudge against her, however.

The title of Dragonborn belonged to a Nord, he thought. It was a sacred legend to his people. He felt that the divines had made a mistake. He had grown to accept Silver as the Dragonborn, despite his disapproval. That was until she vowed neutrality to the Greybeards and ran errands for the people of Skyrim. Someone as great as the Dragonborn was meant for glory, not treasure hunting, running letters from town to town, and collecting random valuables. There was no doubt in her marksmanship or her alchemic abilities, but he saw her as something greater and the Thu'um he used on her was proof of that.

The prideful Nord in him detested what he was doing. Using the elf to achieve his goals through commands she couldn't refuse seemed petty, but it was necessary. Ulfric had desired her to join his side of her own free will, but she was too stubborn and she could not align herself with the cause. All the while, she was an important asset. His frown deepened as he remembered the letter Tullius had sent. Betrayal was a feeling a leader always prepared for, but when Tullius declared the Dragonborn the Empire's ally, Ulfric had become enraged.

"Halt," a guard called out. "State your business in the city." The guards protecting Riften pulled his recollection to a halt, thankfully.

Silver stared at the guard for a moment before looking at Ulfric. The guard's eyes followed hers and he gasped, "Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak!" The guard stood in shock for a moment before looking at the other guard and returning his gaze to the Jarl. "I'm sorry, Jarl Ulfric, but the Rift is under the Empire's control and we've been told not to allow any Stormcloaks to enter." The guard sounded remorseful.

Silver nodded, "I would usually agree with you. Skyrim is under a peace treaty, however, I expect him to be treated with respect."

"And who are you to speak so high and mighty of yourself, elf?" The guard questioned, putting a hand on his hip while the other rested lazily on the hilt of his blade.

"The Dragonborn," Silver responded nonchalantly. Her gleaming eyes seemed void of any emotion as she mercilessly stared the guard down. "Let us through or I'll find another way in," she growled.

The guard gawked at the two of them in shock, his eyes were wide and mouth slightly agape. Silver tensed, gripping the reins of her horse more tightly. The people would soon grow familiar with her appearance and there was no doubt that Tullius would be hearing of Ulfric's location within a few days. Her hands twitched, craving to pull the hood she no longer had closer to her face. She gave Ulfric a look of annoyance before the gates opened, allowing them to enter. They remained on their steeds until they were in front of the inn, where they dismounted and the horses were brought to the stables by Shadr.

Riften was gray and empty when they arrived. The streets were nearly empty, save for the few going between the indoor shops and traveling between homes and the Bee and Barb. Since that morning, it had been drizzling and the air had lost the warmth autumn sometimes held. Given the weather conditions, Silver didn't blame the city for closing the stalls early. When winter arrives in Riften, the quiet, short days would occur more often as the city faced snowstorms and freezes that were more common in Northern Skyrim.

Entering the Bee and Barb, the warmth took the chill out of Silver's bones immediately, leaving the dampness of her clothes making her uncomfortable. Silver took a deep breath, basking in the smell of fresh bread and ale. She closed her eyes, and enjoyed the simple comfort as she closed the door behind Ulfric. "I'm going to buy us a couple rooms, and then I'll go tend to my business," she said pointedly.

"One room. I'm not chancing you running off," he said in a low voice that nearly drowned in the sound of merrymaking. Silver's skin was dark, but he could still see her cheeks become a shade or two darker as her brows furrowed. It was good to know that sleeping in the same room made her as uncomfortable as it made him. He took comfort in knowing that she could not kill him. As he looked at her, he noticed the lack of sleep showing under her eyes.

"No," she snarled in a harsh whisper, "I'm getting two rooms. It seems that you've forgotten that you're very well-known and I don't want Keerava sprouting some rumors about me sharing a bed with you."

Ulfric shook his head. He didn't care what people thought of him. What he did behind closed doors was his business and his alone. People could talk about whatever they wished. "Then get two rooms. We share one." He saw the purple hue in her eyes shine over; he would have his way. It almost made him feel remorseful, how he only needed to bark a command at her and she would obey. The fresh memory of steel pressed against his throat banished any remaining guilt.

His eyes were pulled away from the silver orbs and they fell on a red-headed kinsman at a table with three women, a Dunmer, Bosmer, and another Nord. He was staring at Silver with wide eyes until Ulfric met his gaze. The shock turned into anger as quickly as flipping a septim. Silver followed Ulfric's gaze and saw Brynjolf. Before Ulfric could utter a protest, he watched the Dragonborn hurriedly make her way across the tavern.

Silver saw Sapphire, Karliah, and a Bosmer, whom Silver assumed was the apprentice, seated at a table. Her first step toward them was uneasy and slow, but it quickly became a fast walk across the room. Knowing that he had been safe due to Nocturnal's blessing was one matter, seeing that he was well and unscathed was a different kind of comfort. She stood across the table from Brynjolf, at a loss for words. He stood to greet her, and the rest of the group followed suit, except the apprentice.

"We were waiting for you," Karliah smiled at Silver and took a step closer. She put a hand on Silver's shoulder and squeezed gently, "Brynjolf told us what happened." Karliah knew not to press any further in public. They would need to speak privately in order to delve into the matter.

Finally, Brynjolf broke the eye contact and his gaze moved beyond her. She turned her head over her shoulder to follow his eyes. Ulfric was casually approaching. With the Jarl's long steps, it didn't take him long to cross the tavern and stand beside Silver like a guard dog. Silver grimaced and looked back to Brynjolf's stoic expression.

"How about we take our business elsewhere?" Brynjolf suggested with an easy smile, but his eyes suggested that murder was in the near future. Silver nodded, agreeing with Brynjolf. Ulfric and her shared a glance before he hesitantly nodded, agreeing to go. She had intended to meet with them alone, but it seemed Ulfric was attached to her hip. The thought made her grimace.

The tavern's music and typical noises were washed out by the rain as the group left. They hurried to the Ratways, where they traversed the sewer until they reached the Ragged Flagon. Once there, they took a seat at the largest table. Silver, however, remained standing with her arms folded across her chest.

Before Brynjolf joined the table, he spoke discreetly with Vekel. Vekel left shortly after with Tonilia, along with the few others lingering in the Ragged Flagon. He took his seat, seeming to relax slightly knowing that it was empty and would remain that way until Brynjolf instructed otherwise. "I'm sure you have a damn good reason for why he's with you, lass," Brynjolf spoke first with an edge in his deep voice. Although she knew it wasn't directed at her, it still sent a shiver down her spine. It reminded her of when she entered the Cistern with Karliah.

"It's not willingly," Silver quickly defended herself. She opened her mouth to speak again but Ulfric cut her off.

"This is to make sure that she keeps her end of the vow," he explained calmly. Nervousness crept through his veins, his hand itched to grab the hilt of his blade and fight. He felt like a cornered bear, surrounded by hunters who wished to skin him alive. He kept his face as emotionless as possible.

"I asked _her_ ," Brynjolf growled and turned his sharp gaze back to the Dragonborn.

Again, she opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. They danced at the tip of her tongue, taunting her, yet they could not pass her lips. She brought a hand to her mouth and stared at Ulfric with her eyes opened wide. His expressionless stare felt like a slap in her face. Silver realized that she could do nothing to request that her comrades end his life or help free her from him.

"Lass?" Brynjolf stood, his brows creased with worry. "Karliah, Larehil, watch him. Silver, come with me." Karliah nodded and Larehil did as well after a brief moment. Gently, Brynjolf grabbed Silver's upper arm and pulled her toward the back of the Ragged Flagon, into the area where a few beds were. They were out of sight from the small group and this way, their words would be kept private as long as they whispered.

"I need an explanation." His voice was surprisingly calm. He put his hands on her shoulders, holding them tightly.

"I can't," she said softly, not daring to break the eye contact. Silver brought her hands up to cover his and squeezed them tightly. She forgot how large his hands were compared to hers. His grip loosened but his eyes were still sharp. Her attention drifted to the dark circles under his eyes. "When was the last time you had a good night's rest?"

He shook his head slowly, "Now's not the time to worry about that." He opened his mouth to continue, but Silver cut him off with her straightforwardness.

"I need you to follow us." They stared at each other for a long moment before Silver's brows furrowed.

"Us?" Brynjolf arched an eyebrow and pulled away slightly, his hands remaining on her shoulders.

"He…" Silver stared at him, words threatening to spill from her lips, yet they couldn't take form. "I have to travel with him," her voice dipped to a low tone. Brynjolf's expression changed into one of bewilderment. "Lass, I don't understand."

"He's my comrade," she heard herself say. As soon as the words left her tongue, he released her shoulders and stared down at her with a face she could only describe as anger. "After I kill Alduin, I'll be ending the war," her hollow voice continued. She blinked out of her trance as his hand gently grabbed her chin, and then slid to her cheek. Brynjolf closed the distance between them and she instinctively closed her eyes and flinched. Ulfric had treated her roughly and her body was beginning to react even though Brynjolf's fingers were gentle and promised no harm.

"Open your eyes," Brynjolf whispered. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her nose as she slowly opened them. He tilted her head upward, his green eyes piercing hers. "They're different," he mumbled. He took his hand away and turned, walking toward one of the dressers. Brynjolf opened a drawer and pulled out a small mirror that Silver immediately recognized as Vex's. Briefly, she wondered how he knew where it was. He walked back to Silver and she hesitantly took it. "Look at your eyes."

Silver brought the mirror level with her face and stared at her abnormal eyes. What she saw seemed normal enough. Her eyes still shined like two gemstones, even in the dim lighting of the Ragged Flagon's sleeping quarters. However, she could see the paling of her skin below her eyes indicating her own lack of sleep. Had she always looked so drained? Her frown deepened as she started to lower the mirror. "I don't see anything."

Brynjolf put a hand under her elbow, forcing her hand holding the mirror to be level with her eyes. "Look again. There's no way you can't see that," he urged her.

Silver looked again, narrowing her eyes. Still, she saw no unfamiliar features. "What am I supposed to see?" Her question was quiet as she still stared into the mirror.

"Your eyes. They're turning an odd color," he explained slowly.

Silver laughed, "Is it anything more peculiar than silver for a Dunmer?"

"This is serious, lass. I'm not sure how you can't see the purple in your eyes," her smile faded as his expression remained worrisome. His brows were creased with worry, "It's vanished," he muttered.

She looked at him curiously, lowering the mirror. Perhaps his lack of sleep was catching up with him, she thought. Although she wanted to tell him that Ulfric had some control over her, she couldn't. Instead, she smiled at him. "More than anything, I'd love to tell you exactly what has brought about this unusual circumstance. But, I can't. That's why I'm asking you to follow Ulfric and I. Just watch us, and make sure I'm kept safe."

It was Brynjolf's turn to flash a smile. "You're the Dragonborn, yet you need a thief's help? Not once, but twice!" She could see that he was trying to make light of the situation and she was grateful for it. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt even a smidgen of relief.

"Not just any thief," Silver smiled still. "Take Karliah or your apprentice if you wish," her smile faded as she continued, "but I need your help again." Her weary eyes scanned him, waiting for him to say "no" but hoping for a "yes." His shoulders slacked and he nodded solemnly.

"Aye, I'll follow you again."

Briefly, his words brought her comfort. "Thank you." Turning away from him, Silver placed the mirror on the dresser and headed back to the bar area where the others were waiting. She felt a hand lightly grab her shoulder, "We still have a lot to talk about. Remember that." Silver didn't turn to face him, but she did stop moving.

"And we will. Please lend me your patience for a little while longer," Silver stepped out of his loose grip and left the small room to return to the others. Ulfric was sitting with his arms folded over his chest, no doubt attempting to get rid of any temptation to use his blade to kill them all. How she wished that she could ask Karliah, or anyone, to kill him. Folding her arms across her chest, she looked over the group until her eyes caught on Ulfric's. Brynjolf returned to his seat, placing his hands on the table as he leaned forward.

"I won't ask what happened in that ruin or about what happened after," he began smoothly after a long silence. A glance at Silver told her that he expected to hear the story only from her. "Whether you like it or not, Ulfric Stormcloak, I need to know what you plan to do with the Dragonborn. The Thieves Guild is involved with her, and we need to make sure that it remains that way."

Ulfric scoffed, "What makes you think that your organization should have any part in what's happening, let alone the future. If it were up to me, you'd all be dead, like the vermin you are."

"Ulfric," Silver warned in a low voice.

He stared at her as he spoke again, "Tell me how this 'organization' is involved. A bunch of crooks and low-lives don't have a place in the future of Skyrim." The rebellion leader's tone was low and threatening.

"Simple," Brynjolf began, leaning forward slightly. "We can provide you with information. After all, in a war, sometimes communications are lost in transmission." He adjusted his hands, placing one fist against his palm with his other hand curled over it. His lips pressed to his knuckles.

"I don't need to use those shameless tactics," Ulfric growled.

"You must know General Tullius," Brynjolf smirked behind his hands as he egged Ulfric on. "We've given him plenty of your information. For instance, we know of that dragon you rode." Ulfric remained emotionless as Silver's eyes widened. They shared a brief glance before Brynjolf continued. Silver their glance would not go unnoticed. "Let's say that we could make sure Tullius never receives that information." Honey seemed to coat his words as he spoke. It reminded her of when she had first joined the guild.

Ulfric's flat-lined mouth curved into a scowl as he stared at the thief. Not that he had assumed it was an innocent circumstance, but the disappearances of many good messengers suddenly made sense. "No," Ulfric's pride answered aloud. "Tullius may use those devious tricks, but I'll still win. Talos is on my side. Now, it appears that you and the Dragonborn have spoken, I think our business here is finished." Ulfric stood from the table, causing Karliah and Larehil to flinch. Silver and Brynjolf stared at the large, stubborn Nord.

Ulfric's cold gaze fell on Silver and he felt that familiar sting of betrayal. Could he blame her? He had her cornered. "Silver," he said sternly, hiding a silent command in his angry voice. He turned away from the group knowing that if they dared strike, Silver would defend him. She gave them one last look over her shoulder as she followed Ulfric out. Brynjolf gave her one of his comforting smiles, and she tried to return it before disappearing behind the door leading to the Ratways.


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N: You know, I read through these chapters 2-4 times before I post them and they STILL have typos and some bad grammar. ;_; I'm not sure if followers get updated whenever I edit a chapter, but I'm sorry if you do!_

* * *

 **Silver & Ulfric**

When they returned to the Bee and Barb, Silver felt the prying stares of the patrons. No, they wouldn't recognize her as the Dragonborn. The few times she had let down her hood, she had been a mere stranger. She had never removed her hood even for the Jarls once she had become more involved in the dangerous requests. To the patrons and citizens, she was an oddly featured Dunmer passing through. With Ulfric following her closely, she couldn't hope to go by unnoticed as she used to. Everyone knew his face. Some had to do a double-take before realizing it, but they still knew him and what he stood for. Guards were gossips, thus it wouldn't be but a day before the entire city would come to know her, Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak's companion, as the Dragonborn.

"What do _you_ want?" Keerava growled as Silver approached the bar. Her voice was harsh. Keerava always showed disdain, but she never refused any of Silver's requests.

"Two rooms," Silver placed a bag of coin on the counter. Keerava waved her hand. "You know which rooms they are," the Argonian grabbed the bag and turned away. Silver was grateful for Keerava's lack of reaction to Ulfric's company.

She made her way up the stairs and placed her knapsack on the small bed. During their ride, Silver had been looking forward to the warmth and cushion of a bed. However, the floor seemed more appealing knowing that she would be sharing the room with Ulfric. The sound of the door clicked closed as she began to inspect the contents of her knapsack. Without looking up, she addressed her visitor, "Ulfric, can't I be alone for just a moment?"

"No," he responded simply. "I want to know what you and that thief discussed."

Silver's hands sprang away from her bag, dropping it onto the bed as if it were hot coal. Staring at him, her hands curled into fists by her sides. "You said you wouldn't use the Thu'um," she glared. "You've been using it since we left Windhelm. Give me one good reason why I should still hold up my end of the deal," she growled.

"You don't have a choice. Either I will free Skyrim now, or I will do it after Alduin has been killed. Tell-" She didn't let him finish.

She felt her blood boiling with rage. When they had spoken at the castle, he was only trying to appease her and the understanding of it brought a familiar lick of betrayal. A flame seemed to flash in her eyes and he saw what he recognized as a blind fury seen in battle. His hand quickly wrapped around his sword hilt and he withdrew it from its sheath. Silver charged at him with a dagger in each hand, drawn from the sheath on her arm and her thigh. Ulfric stepped back into the door, sword up and prepared to parry the blows, yet he found no need to.

Ulfric kept his sword across his chest, the blade touching Silver's neck as it threatened to spill her blood. Her daggers were on either side of his head. Her armored torso was pressed against his as she seemed to hang onto her daggers protruding from the door. Ulfric didn't dare to look away from her. Every movement told him that she was ready to kill him. His lips fell into a flat line as he observed her. She was shorter than him by about a head, but she kept him sturdily pinned against the door.

Silver was panting. Her anger was crashing through her like tidal waves, threatening to consume her. Her hands held a death grip on the daggers. "Ulfric," she spoke in a low voice as her eyes moved from the base of his neck to his eyes. Feeling the steel match her movements, it kissed the flesh of her neck as it threatened to take her life, only fueling her fury. "You hold a blade to my throat, and you force me to tell you things that I don't want to. The _least_ you could do is grant me **privacy**." Her voice had started as a whisper, slowly escalating into a yell.

"Give me reason to trust you, Silver," he growled.

"Give you a reason," she mocked him coldly. "How about you give me a chance to earn your trust?"

"I've given you several chances. The first night you tried to run. On the third you tried to kill me. Secret conversations after attempting to assassinate me don't bode well either." Ulfric remained still under her burning gaze, defying her. He had tried to trust her. When she tried to run, he didn't blame her. If he were in her position, he would have tried to kill her as well. He knew what he would do in her position if he had gained her trust.

"Everything you have shown me and done to me tells me that you think I am your possession. An _item_." Her voice curled into sorrow. While her hands still held onto the daggers as if they kept her from falling into Oblivion, she leaned her head forward into the crook of his neck. She was growing tired of fighting with him. Ulfric's blade moved just enough to allow her the movement. He wondered why he didn't just kill her and get it out of the way. "I will not be your pet, Ulfric. Just leave me be and demand that I return to you once I'm finished. So far, the Thu'um has worked perfectly for you, demanding that I submit to your commands even when you're not in the room. Why go through this trouble?"

"I won't make the mistake of putting a risk in place that may not work in my favor." His words were slow. "I will take Skyrim back from those damn Imperials and Thalmor." Her breath tickled his skin, making him aware of their close proximity. Knowing that she couldn't kill him brought him some comfort.

"Save the speech," Silver growled and began to pull away. Ulfric's free arm wrapped around her waist and kept her close. "Let me go. Or do I need to remind you that you detest elves." Their faces were a small distance apart and it made her nervous. The memory of his mouth colliding with hers before she had Shouted at him made her feel ill as a heat crept over her cheeks.

Ulfric's hand had moved on its own. He released her shortly after realizing the mistake. Silver pulled away, releasing her daggers, and he lowered his sword. "Do not make me beg, Ulfric. Grant me this chance, and I'll not break your trust again," her voice was quiet. He saw the loss of hope in her eyes. His pride was injured by what he was forcing her to do.

"Dragonborn," he started but was stopped when she locked eyes with him and straightened. Her chin was held high and her shoulders were back, displaying all of her height. Standing proudly before him, he could see how she had changed since he had first met her. She was no longer the messenger and simple lackey he had known her as within the past year. Before, the only value she could add to an army was her name. She was no longer a Dragonborn he could hate.

Her daggers remained attached to the door. She crossed her arms over her chest as she stared at Ulfric. "Stormcloak," she responded coldly. "I'll give you my word, but know that I value your word as much as you value mine," she added. Ulfric only nodded and took a step forward from the door. He turned and took the daggers from the door, making it look easy. He handed them back to her. Hesitantly, she took them, deciding that it was a silent agreement. He was solemn and soundless as he left the room. Silver assumed he would be going to the tavern or Haelga's. Silver relaxed as the door closed behind him and she looked around the room, eyes catching on the nightstand and wardrobe.

After going through the wardrobes in both rented rooms, she found a thin hooded cloak. She took off her armor and laid it out, leaving only her tunic, pants, and boots on beneath the cloak. Silver left the inn room shortly after. She quietly made her way out of the Bee and Barb after making sure Ulfric had been hunched over the bar enjoying what she assumed to be mead. Her soft steps were drowned out by the rain as she left the Bee and Barb. She quickly ran through the rain to Mercer's old manor.

Silver had kept a key, knowing that the place was of no use to Brynjolf. The few times she had visited Riften without him knowing, she had used the manor. In Riften, it was the only place she felt comfortable using for bathing; on a rainy day, it was a godsend. She was certain that he wouldn't deny her entrance, but she had never felt inclined to tell Brynjolf about her occasional use of the home. Knowing him, he would ask to join her. The thought made the corners of her lips tug into a shy smile and a blush creep along her cheeks.

The walk was short. The cloak was already damp from the rain as she entered the cold manor. It was getting dusty from negligence. Unlike Mercer, Brynjolf had never hired any mercenaries to occupy the place and he had no intention of reusing the traps Mercer had set. It was a stone box not in use. Silver didn't light any torches as she navigated the abandoned manor. She didn't want anyone from the outside to see that someone dwelled within.

Grabbing a candle, she lit it using a flames spell. Magic had never been her strong suit, but she did have the ability to use it minimally, such as the flames spell or detect life. Never could she use it in a fight effectively. Cautiously, she made her way up the stairs to the bedroom. Seeing the bed made her shiver, as it always did. It was in the same condition it had been when she encountered Brynjolf in the room. The blankets were ruffled just enough to show that they had been disturbed on one side of the large bed.

She placed a hand on the blanket and felt the dust. Her heart fell as she pulled away. An ache of pain in her heart made her free hand go to her chest. They were emotions she hadn't felt in a long time. Although she no longer denied that the elixir had altered her, she hadn't realized how much damage it had done. No longer was she used to the raw emotions of sadness and anger. She reacted to them clearly and honestly and in ways she never had before.

Sighing, Silver stared sadly at the bed. She missed that relationship with Brynjolf and she felt that her elixir was partially to blame for the separation. Closing her eyes, she turned and headed toward the room with the tub. The room was connected to the bedroom and had a single window. It was small and contained only a small tub and a small shelf with clean towels. It took a few hours, but she eventually filled it with water and warmed it. She tied her hair up using a piece of satin as she steeped her aching body into the hot water. Resting her head against the rim of the tub, she closed her eyes.

" _I've heard stories from Vex, Delvin, Vipir, Niruin, Thrynn… What about you, Brynjolf?" Silver's hands cupped her cheeks as she leaned forward. Her elbows were on the table, providing support for her head. Her smile was mischievous and wide._

" _Can't say there's much more to it, Silver," he laughed._

She missed his laugh.

" _You won't tell me anything about you?" She pouted. Their banter went on quietly in the Ragged Flagon. She had just completed an odd job and returned from Solitude that morning. It had gone smoothly and it had put her, as well as her mentor, in a good mood. After buying him a few drinks, she managed to get him to talk._

" _I grew up here in Riften. There isn't much more to it, I'm telling you!" He laughed again, earning a smile from his protégé. She raised her bottle, taking careful sips as he continued to speak. The slight slur in his voice made her giggle quietly. "I was an orphan, you know. I didn't need to steal, it was something I was good at and enjoyed doing. It got my heart pumping and kept me on my toes."_

" _As it turns out, I was preparing myself," he said slowly, taking another big gulp of the mead, finishing his bottle. It took only a few seconds before Silver had another in front of him, uncorked and begging to be consumed. He took it and took a large sip. It was his seventh bottle within an hour. "I had known about the Thieves Guild. I hadn't been recruited into the guild until the orphanage kicked me out. Gallus was very persistent. He wouldn't stop stealing whatever I had stolen that day. It turned into a little game of cat and mouse. Like I was with you, lass," he chuckled._

" _What about how you came to rise through the ranks? You're one of the most trusted and talented members now, and you're going to tell me that there's nothing to it?" Silver arched a brow._

Silver's eyes slowly opened to see the ceiling. The dying flickering light of the candle made the dark room seem warmer. Candlelight reminded her of the Cistern and Ragged Flagon. She turned her head to look at the wall where a window looking over the market square resided. From where she was laying, she only had a view of the dark sky. She wondered if Ulfric was looking for her yet. Was her sneaking out considered going against his word? No, she thought quickly. If it were, then she wouldn't have been able to leave at all. She hadn't left with intent to meet Brynjolf or any of the others. Ulfric surely would not have let her leave if she had told him. The thought of running into Brynjolf made her feel flustered.

Her wandering mind had skipped to the time when her and Karliah had presented Gallus' journal. The silence in the cistern made her feel as though her hammering heart and quick, nervous breaths were the only sounds. Brynjolf stared at her with an intense anger and sadness; it was the look one had after being betrayed and occasionally the image flashed through her mind. Silver had the translation in her hand, ready to pass along, but Brynjolf hadn't needed it. Briefly, she had been upset, thinking that she had gone through the trouble for nothing, but she had learned something about him. If he knew the Falmer language in writing, she wondered how and why he had learned it.

" _Everything goes back to Gallus and Karliah," Brynjolf smiled sadly at his bottle. "Karliah doesn't look it but she's easily twice my age. Mer and their slow aging."_

Silver remembered his comment triggering several questions about herself. She looked no older than twenty, but she could be much older. That would put Karliah in her sixties or even eighties, but she didn't look a day over thirty or so.

" _So you trained under Gallus and everything fell into your open palms," Silver tried to finish, showing a toothy grin._

" _Aye," he chuckled. "Although, my hands were closed. I didn't want leadership. There was a time when there were only a few of us, and that was when I had no choice. Luckily, Mercer was more than willing to take the position, especially after tracing Gallus' murder to Karliah," Brynjolf scoffed._

She wondered if Brynjolf could come to hate her as well, knowing that she was helping Ulfric and unable to explain why. Silver shook her head. Brynjolf was all about business. He did what he could in order to get the information he needed. If it wasn't what he wanted, then he would walk away. At the same time, he always gave it a chance to go further; he always tried to gain a clear understanding. Perhaps it was a scholarly quality he had taken up from Gallus. Based on how Karliah had spoken of Gallus, Brynjolf seemed to pick out most of his personality from him.

The sound of a steady breath out of sync with her own snapped her attention to the present. "If you're going to kill me, just do it," Silver breathed, turning her head toward the presence in a far corner. She hadn't given up on living, but knowing that she would have to face Ulfric again made her feel hopeless. If only she hadn't tried to run away that first night. Then again, if she had gotten away, her life would be much better.

"You mean too much to him," Larehil responded cooly. She moved from her position leaning against the wall beside the window and sat down beside the tub, glaring at the window. "I hate you, Dragonborn."

Silver lifted her head from the tub's rim and stared at the Bosmer's profile. She was beautiful. Her face was longer and more angular, like an elf should be. Her cheekbones were high, and Silver imagined that her smile would be stunning. Her eyes were golden like a cat's and her body was slender, unlike Silver's. Silver had lean muscle and she was considered slender, but she had wide hips, giving her body more of a Nordic curvature. It complemented her small waist, though she always found herself envying the woman with narrow hips and long limbs that could make it through the small holes and crevices that thieving sometimes required.

"How did you know I was here, Larehil?" Silver admired the woman's straightforwardness. There was no reason to question the hatred that the apprentice bore. Sometimes it existed for almost no reason at all and Silver didn't care for why. She imagined that she may hate the apprentice as well, just knowing that her and Brynjolf had bonded.

"Brynjolf had me follow you. I almost barged into that room when I saw two points on the door at the inn stick out," she responded nonchalantly. "I didn't know Brynjolf gave you a key," Larehil's golden eyes met hers, causing Silver to jump.

"He didn't," she said honestly, looking up at the window. "I kept one of the spare keys I found. Brynjolf doesn't use this manor. I thought that I could put it to use."

"He needs a housecarl," Larehil scoffed.

Silver laughed. It had been a long year since the falling out with Mercer and the place was filthy. She kept the bathroom clean, but everything else was beginning to look aged. "Are you two lovers?" Silver immediately regretted asking the question as her heart began to pound.

They stared at each other for what felt like hours before Larehil finally answered, "Yes." Silver looked away. No doubt the Bosmer saw her emotions reflecting clearly. Her heart fell into the pit of her stomach and felt like it had even dipped into acid. Suddenly, she felt foolish for asking Brynjolf to follow her to the Dwemer ruin and on her journey with Ulfric.

"I apologize for dragging him along into the dangers of my life," she smiled sadly.

"Don't give me that shit," Larehil growled. "You know exactly what you're doing. He loved you and here you are stringing him along like a child does their favorite toy. Find a new toy." She carefully pronounced the final sentence through clenched teeth.

Silver sat upright. "I have to save Skyrim," she whispered harshly. "If you can do that without the guilt of losing a loved one, I dare you to try it."

"Oh, so now you're going to say that you do it for his protection," Larehil huffed and threw her hands into the air. "Why don't you let him decide what he wants? If he wants to risk his stupid life for yours, then let him."

"Are you trying to convince me to make him mine?" She stared at the apprentice, appalled. "Isn't he your lover?"

"I'm telling you that you missed your chance because you're thick-headed and selfish."

"Get out."

"This isn't even your home," Larehil countered. "So-"

"Dragonborn," Ulfric's voice boomed in the dusty abandoned mansion. Silver gasped, a hand flying over her mouth. Her gleaming eyes fell on Larehil who stared at the dark, empty doorway. Larehil shook her head and fled into the shadows. Silver looked over her shoulder at the doorway leading into the bedroom. The mansion was veiled in thick shadow except for her candle residing by the tub.

Her heart echoed in her ears, threatening to drown out the sound of his footsteps. _What do I do?_

His feet were heavy as he trekked up the stairs. It had been hours since he had seen the Dragonborn slip out from the tavern. He had no doubt that she had left to meet with that wretched gang of thieves. Ulfric had watched her enter the manor and decided to return to the bar. There was no reason for him to follow her inside knowing that she would return eventually. It was the dead of night and no light leaked through the few windows in the manor. The moon was hidden behind clouds and the home showed no sign of life.

For a moment, he doubted she was there, until he heard the sound of water. It wasn't the light clatter of rain. It was the sound made when wading through a pond or lake. What could she be doing in an old house? He was furious with her. She asked for his trust and then she ran off and tried to hide.

"Ulfric," he heard her respond to him. It was quiet and came from the top of the stairs. She appeared at the top of the stairs, holding a candle that showed him enough to assume what had happened. Ulfric's jaw clenched. "Return to the inn," he commanded.

Silver felt her body begin to respond, but stopped herself. She stared down at him, holding the thick candle even tighter. "You're upset," she said calmly. "Let me explain, please," she begged.

"What is there to explain?" His voice carried in the empty stairwell. He narrowed his eyes, wondering why she wasn't moving.

Why did she need to explain anything to him? Silver took a step back as he began to advance up the stairs. Her free hand moved to her tunic reflexively. She had gotten out of the tub and thrown on her tunic after barely drying her skin. Each of his heavy steps made her flinch. When he finally reached the top, she realized that she had stopped moving and was waiting for him. His icy gaze froze her as she stood, staring back at him with her dim candle. "You were meeting that thief, weren't you?"

Something about the way he asked struck a nerve with Silver. "I asked for your trust and I have done nothing to betray it tonight," she countered strongly, thankful for her unwavering voice.

Ulfric was silent and Silver watched his shoulders rising and falling with his panting. He was furious. "You're sleeping with that thief," he accused her.

Silver nearly dropped the candle. Pursing her lips, she wondered how careful her response would need to be in order to calm him down. _He's drunk. I could fight him._

He stepped forward, quickly closing the distance between them. "If I were, it would be no business of yours." Ulfric released a string of curses before he took a deep breath. Silver stepped forward and thrust her free palm into his chin in an attempt to stop him before he used the Thu'um. As hard as she had thrown her hand, it landed gently and her fingers touched his lips. She stared at him wide-eyed, "I've kept my promise. Keep yours."

He slapped her hand away, "It's none of my business? Now is not the time to be trying to keep secrets from me, Dragonborn. Tell me, are you sleeping with that red-headed thief?"

"No," her hollow voice responded quickly. They glared at each other, both seemingly frozen. Silver moved her hand to her tunic nervously. She felt vulnerable and uncomfortable knowing that she couldn't defy anything he asked of her. It wasn't like her to give up, and it was the last thing she wanted to do. "If I simply obey you," Silver started quietly, "How does it make me any different than a mindless slave?"

"Perhaps it would be better that way," he growled.

Ulfric felt his body swaying, feeling heavy from the alcohol. He stared at the Dragonborn. She was right to say that it would be much easier if he let her go about her business, demanding that she return when finished, but there was a lot she could do behind his back. She was cunning and not one to mess with. He feared what could happen if she were left to her own devices. He also feared Alduin killing his trump card in the civil war. The candle fell from Silver's hand, the flame blowing out before it hit the ground and spilling wax on the floor.

In the small amount of light, Ulfric watching her stand straight. His eyes snapped to the glowing orbs, looking animalistic in the lack of light. They just had to get to Whiterun, Ulfric though pessimistically. Still, they needed to go by Falkreath and it had only been a few days since they had left Windhelm. He was ready to kill her and she was ready to kill him.

"More than anything, you are a dragon," a voice rang through her mind. She recognized it as the Dunmer Dragon Priest she had met in her dreams. "If this Shout has done any good, it has released that side of you. Embrace it and perhaps you can overcome your captor." She could hear the sneer in his voice. Yet, he was only a voice. Could she trust him?

"Return to the inn with me," Ulfric commanded.

Silver felt her feet begin to move. A violent ringing tore through her ears as numbness began to sweep through her limbs. The Thu'um was working through her as it had before. In that moment, she felt foolish. Foolish for thinking she could trust Ulfric. Foolish for thinking that she could rely on Brynjolf for help. Most of all, she felt foolish for thinking that she could have her own freedom. Her shoulders slacked and she felt the first signs of succumbing to the power of the Shout. Closing her eyes, the darkness consumed her as she lost all physical feeling.


	15. Chapter 15

**Larehil & Brynjolf**

"Bryn, we have a problem," Larehil panted. He was leaning against the desk in the cistern. Karliah was seated behind it, looking closely over the finances. After the fiasco with Mercer, the guild had agreed to leave the financial records available for all members to look through. It wasn't very often someone looked, but it gave the peace of mind needed after Mercer's betrayal.

"Is it Silver?" Karliah looked up abruptly. She was ready to stand and run to Silver's aid, "What's happened?"

Larehil breathed a sigh of relief as her jogging came to a halt beside the desk. Shortly after hearing Ulfric's voice, she had fled the manor to report to Brynjolf. Silver could handle her own, she figured. Why the damned Dunmer was so afraid of him, she wasn't sure but she also didn't want to find out. To her, they seemed evenly matched. Silver could withstand and use the Thu'um as Ulfric could. As for their skills in combat, Larehil could only assume that there was a ground on which they could not beat one another. Ulfric may wield a deadly sword, however, if Silver had a bow, she could take him out before he moved.

"Bryn, did you know that Silver uses Mercer's manor freely? She has a key and everything."

Brynjolf's brows raised slightly. He didn't know and he had never thought to check. He had tried to stay there. To him, the place wasn't appealing. The Cistern and Ratways were more of a home than that pile of stone and wood could ever be. His expression hardened as he thought of the times he may have missed Silver when she had visited Riften. Knowing that she would've been doing it to avoid him made it sting. "That doesn't matter. Tell us what happened with Silver," he forced the words out. While he wondered how often she used it and why she hadn't at least told him, he was more concerned for what that damned bear of a man could have done to her.

She hesitated and the two leaned forward slightly, ready to hang onto her every word. "She was taking a bath in that dusty old place when Ulfric stromed in. I- Hey!"

Brynjolf didn't want to hear the rest of it; his mind did a fine job of imagining how the rest of her report might go after the first five words. He ran for the ladder leading up to the cemetery. Hopefully, he wouldn't be too late. "Damn it, Larehil. You were supposed to stay with her until she was safe," he yelled to the Bosmer.

"Ex _cuse_ me!" Larehil yelled back, running after him. Larehil glanced back and saw that Karliah reluctantly chose to remain in the Cistern. She looked back to Brynjolf, who was disappearing as he climbed the ladder. Larehil grabbed the ladder and began climbing after him. "I figured you might want to know that something-"

The ground shook with a ferocious intensity. Brynjolf had just finished climbing out. He reached down and pulled Larehil up just as the ladder shook out of place. She breathed a sigh of relief as she attempted to steady herself. The shaking continued although the severity began to fade. Brynjolf pulled the chain hard enough to make Larehil wince. The stone slid open, almost masking the low rumbling from the quaking.

The two thieves emerged from the disguised tomb, sliding closed shortly after they passed through the archway. Brynjolf wasted no time in leaving the cemetery and heading toward the manor using the paths behind the city. As they passed two confused guards discussing the tremor, a pained scream followed by the cry of a dragon rang through the air. Brynjolf skidded to a stop outside of the manor. The roof of the abandoned manor exploded into thousands of splinters as the wings of a dragon unfurled from the rubble of the second floor.

Brynjolf and Larehil stared at the dragon, mouths agape and eyes wide with shock. The silver dragon curled its head upward, pointing its snout toward the midnight sky. Even with no moon, her scales shimmered like a school of fish in the creeks of the Rift. She released another furious cry. Inside of the guttural sound, Brynjolf heard a scream that sounded like Silver. His mind flashed a picture of the Dwemer ruins, when he had been forced to listen to her screams from afar as he devised a plan to escape.

An arrow fired from beside him. Brynjolf snapped his head toward one of the guards. "Dragon!" Several screams resounded throughout Riften alongside a mixture of battle cries and calls for help. His gaze returned to the dragon. The arrow bounced off of her scales as if it were a pebble. More arrows were fired at her. Ducking her head, she disappearing into what remained of the second floor walls of the manor. Brynjolf heard Ulfric's incoherent, booming voice, but it did nothing to stop the dragon from taking flight.

It was clumsy; the way the dragon flapped its wings and gripped the tattered building fervently made it seem as if the beast thought it was going to fall. As soon as she passed over their heads, she disappeared. Her belly-side blended perfectly into the clouded night sky. The guards began running in all directions to try and find her. Brynjolf wanted to urge them not to try and follow but the argument would be ludicrous. They wanted the glory of slaying a dragon as almost every other Nord sought.

His eyes snapped back to the manor. Quickly, he climbed the stairs on the outside leading to the second floor and moved what remained of the balcony door. Ulfric stood on the edge of the bedroom, leaning against one of the only pieces of wall that stood taller than him. The leader looked haggard and his hair was a tussled mess made by the dragon's takeoff. "Was that Silver?" Brynjolf growled from across the room, almost muted by the little taps of rain hitting the wood.

Ulfric glared at the two thieves as if they had just stolen his life's savings. "What did you do, Ulfric?" Larehil asked angrily. Heart hammering and knees slightly shaking, Larehil was still panicked from seeing a dragon so close. She had encountered a few dragons since Alduin's return, but she had the cover of forest to run away from them or hide. Seeing one as close as that had forced her to realize the danger Skyrim was in. Silver was right to fear putting Brynjolf in that position. The Bosmer stole a glance at her companion. She wouldn't want her favorite thief to meet a brutal death.

"I did nothing," he snarled in response. "That damned woman turned into a dragon and fled."

"People don't just turn into dragons. Why didn't you stop her?"

Ulfric's mouth fell into a scowl. "She fell and she started changing."

"Liar," Larehil mumbled as she straightened. Brynjolf ignored her. He had seen enough people to know the signs of when a man lied without her saying so.

"Did you know that she could do that?" Brynjolf took a few steps closer to Ulfric. "Did this happen because you used that wretched Voice?"

Ulfric's jaw clenched. After a few moments of silence, Brynjolf crossed his arms with a scowl and stared the rebellion leader down. " _We're_ going to track her down and make sure she gets where she needs to go. _You're_ going to come with us and make sure she never becomes a dragon again and turns back into a human," he growled.

Larehil watched the two men, feeling her own blood begin to boil. All of this for that damn Dragonborn. She bit her bottom lip and stared at Brynjolf's back. There was no way she was going to stay back and leave the two dogs to tear into one another's throat. The Dragonborn was becoming more trouble than she was worth, in Larehil's opinion. The woman was weak and being taken advantage of by the people of Skyrim. What would the land do without the Dragonborn? Chances are that the Imperials and Stormcloaks might have worked together for a change.

"Why don't we wait until she comes back," Larehil suggested lightly, interlacing her fingers behind her back as she walked to Brynjolf and stood by his side. She looked up at him, only a few inches below his height.

Brynjolf and Ulfric looked at her as if she had grown a second head. "That's a big risk," Ulfric said quickly. "Could she fend for herself out there?" Brynjolf was looking at Larehil, but she knew he expected no answer. Ulfric's expression faltered. Larehil frowned, remembering that when she had seen Silver, she had been wearing only a tunic and her taking flight wasn't the most elegant display. Her golden eyes shifted to the rebellion leader with an arched brow.

"There's no way we'll find her tonight," Larehil said coldly, shifting her gaze to the sky. The moment Silver's underside would have become visible, she had disappeared. It was captivating, Larehil thought. The dragon was meant to camouflage when on the ground and in the dark sky. She had never heard of nor seen a dragon like that. "We wouldn't be able to match her speed and she disappeared as soon as she took flight," Larehil commented softly.

He couldn't deny the truth in his apprentice's words. He followed her gaze to the sky before returning to the disheveled man. "First thing tomorrow, we'll set out." He turned on his heel and began walking toward the stairs he had used to get to the second floor from outside.

It was a short walk back to the guild. Larehil and Brynjolf explained the situation to Karliah as soon as they returned. Larehil felt a pang of jealousy as Karliah regarded Silver as if she were a dear friend. Karliah placed a firm hand on Brynjolf's shoulder and gave it a small, reassuring squeeze, "I know you can handle this, Brynjolf, but if all you've told me is true, then she may be unstable."

Larehil's ears perked up. What else could cause the Dragonborn to be unstable? She was a damned dragon, of course she was unstable. Brynjolf's sad smile told Larehil that there was much that she didn't know. Folding her arms over her bosom, she pouted as she stared at the two old thieves, "If I'm going on a suicide mission, I'd like to know what may happen."

Karliah's violet eyes snapped to the Bosmer, as if she were suddenly aware of her presence. She looked back to Brynjolf with a tight frown. He briefly glanced around the Cistern. It was mostly empty, lit by a few dim torches. The sound of several sleeping members and snores resounded in the peaceful hideout. "We'll discuss it in my room," he said quietly. They were details that he was sure Silver would want to keep only between himself and Karliah. He was wary of telling Larehil because of her clear disdain for the Dunmer. However, the secrets could prove to be troublesome.

"I'm afraid I'll have to leave this entirely in your hands, Brynjolf. Orroc and I have business in Morthal," Karliah gave him a sad smile. That meant that Delvin was going to be in charge while the other two were busy tending to the real problems. Larehil was glad to be a part of the interesting bit. Delvin tended be incredibly strict when the other two weren't around.

Brynjolf bade his farewell to the Dunmer and then Larehil and him made their way to his closed off bedroom. She closed the door behind herself, leaving the two of them to their privacy. "So what is this secret?" Larehil began, her hand touching the doorknob still. Brynjolf took on the familiar position of leaning against the desk in his room with his arms folded across his chest.

"Silver has some issues," he started slowly. He brought a hand up to his face and rubbed his beard. It was all new information to him as well. "Silver came into Skyrim with absolutely no memory. I'm sure you know of the attack on Helgen."

Larehil rolled her eyes, "Yes, yes. The Dragonborn was doomed to die when Alduin attacked, thus freeing her. She then traveled and became thane!" Larehil struck an exaggerated pose, placing her hands on her hips. Brynjolf shook his head, finding no humor in the situation.

"Lass, I'm not telling you her life story. It's her mindset. She had nothing before that attack, do you understand?" He was scolding her. "She doesn't know where she's from or who she was before that day. As you may know, she is an expert alchemist. She chose to hide her new memories using an elixir she made. It seems that she hasn't taken it in a while, but this caused instability in her behavior." Brynjolf looked at the ground, his arms returning to their crossed position. She certainly was livelier. It was the most energetic he had seen her since she had first joined the guild.

"This means that the same memories she chose to bury away are resurfacing. If she's attacking in a blind rage, she could easily mistake her friends for foes."

 _I am her foe,_ Larehil thought briefly.

* * *

 **Silver**

"You did it, Dovahkiin," the Dunmer Dragon Priest praised.

She didn't have the energy to respond to him. It was warm all around her, making her feel comfortable in her simple tunic. It wasn't wet, as she thought it was, and it helped her skin breathe. If she had been in her armor, the heat would have been stifling. Lying on her back with her eyes closed, she basked in the abnormal comfort. "You can't ignore me for the rest of time, Dovahkiin," he chuckled, "This may be your dream realm but I am apart of you now."

"I can't see Paarthurnax as you told me to, priest," Silver mumbled weakly. Her eyes slowly opened to reveal the sunless, bright blue sky. "This is no paradise," she whispered.

The priest gave a deep, throaty laugh, "You are still a dragon, but you found the power to turn the moment you feel the Word pulling your soul."

Silver turned her head and felt warm sand press against her cheek as she looked at the heavily garbed priest. "I will be free from this soon, won't I?"

The Dunmer priest slowly nodded, "There is little left to your soul for him to control." He smiled down at her in a way that made her feel like he was a father watching his child. "In this form, seeking out Paarthurnax will be much easier. I suggest you take advantage of this."

Silver began to close her eyes. They snapped open as she felt the movements of the priest. He had moved to slap her across the cheek. The instant her eyes locked on his, he froze. "I realized something, priest," she slowly spoke, "You said I'm dreaming. I can control my dreams." Rather than the fearful look she expecting, he only smiled. Then, she felt it. The familiar pull of reality trying to bring her away from the otherworldly realm. "Damn you," she whispered as she felt the heaviness of reality.

Slowly, she shook her head and opened her eyes. Lifting her head, she took in her surroundings. She was in a cave she recognized. It was on the tip of her tongue, but she hissed it away. There was no need to remember. She knew she had to get to Paarthurnax before Ulfric found her. It took her a few tries, but when she was finally able to steady herself, she left the cave and took flight. High in the sky, she felt a peace she had never felt before. The cool moisture of the sky made her feel whole and invincible. Why did she want to be stuck on the ground again?

Shaking her head, Silver focused her mind on finding Paarthurnax. She found that she was beginning to find truth in the Dragon priest's words. There was no denying her want to be a Dragon, as her soul occasionally yearned to be.

" **DO VAH KIIN!** "

A primal instinct urged Silver to respond to the summons. It was similar to when the Greybeards had called for the first time, but back then it was mainly fueled with curiosity. She didn't need to try and pinpoint who her summoner was. There was no mistaking the voice that bore no resemblance to the Greybeards'. Not daring to turn toward Riften, the opposite direction in which she was flying, she continued on her path forward.

The Dragon priest had told her that she had a chance to resist the Thu'um Ulfric had used on her while she was in this form. That seemed to prove true as she was able to resist the calling. A low growl hummed through her body as she contemplated. What was stopping her from responding and just kill the damned bear of a man? Would his Voice stop her as she is now?

"Dovahkiin, did you not hear your summons?" Paarthurnax's wise voice broke her train of thought. He was hovering in front of her, directly in her path. After closing some of the distance, Silver also positioned herself into a hover. She hadn't expected to reach the mountain as quickly as she had. Flying over Skyrim would be something she could easily get used to. "It seems you have joined the dov."

"Not by choice," her guttural voice commented. It was odd to not be familiar with her own sounds. It made the encounter seem surreal. Weeks ago, she would have laughed at a story such as this. "A Dragon priest's ancient Word has been used on me."

"Ah yes. I know of this Word," Paarthurnax nearly purred. Silver wanted to high-tail it out of there. She was never one to enjoy his history lessons as they seemed to lead to her risking her life. He moved his head slightly downward, suggesting that she follow him to his perch on the Throat of the World. She did exactly that. Upon landed, Paarthurnax took his familiar stance on his large stone wall as she clumsily landed in the snow on her side. With a growl of frustration, she decided to lay in the snow.

"You will grow used to your limbs, sister," he began with some tenderness leaking into his rough voice. "There is no doubt in my mind that the priest's spirit is eagerly haunting you. He must be urging you to succumb to this form. The power must be... persuasive," he continued. Silver hesitantly nodded in agreement. "The user of the Voice on you may be the only one who can break this spell. At the same time, he would be magnifying its effect on you."

Silver growled with impatience. He was telling her what she already knew. Paarthurnax had only just enough time to say her name before the ground shook from the ferocity of another dragon's cry she could only recognize as Alduin. "No," Silver yelled out. The damned god should have still been in Sovngarde, consuming souls. The dragon she had encounter with Ulfric should not have had a way to talk with him directly.

" **DO VAH KIIN!** "

Panicked, she cried out in response to the summons. Talos damn you, Ulfric, she thought wildly as she searched the sky for the familiar black dragon. "Paarthurnax, you told me he would need time to recover," she growled at the old dragon as she balanced on her legs, using her wings to keep her upright.

"It seems that time is up," he responded quietly. "Flee, Dovahkiin. You cannot take Alduin as you are now."

Silver and Paarthurnax held eye contact as the sky began to open upward into a spiraling mass of greying clouds, threatening to unleash all of nature's wrath upon them. Streaks of red were beginning to decorate the sky, threatening to rain meteors upon them at any moment. In a swift movement of her wings, Silver took to the sky. Remaining near the mountain as she flew toward Riften, where her summons came from, she Shouted, "Feim Zii Gron!" With just enough time to escape, she hoped to make her way to Ulfric, have him turn her human and then return to take on Alduin.

"Damned priest," she thought stubborn as she curled her neck to look at the mass of angry clouds once more.


	16. Chapter 16

_A/N: I just want to note that I don't know much about Tullius so I'm mostly winging his background. For the sake of this fanfic, I plan to bend much of the stories behind the characters to fit my story as I see fit. I apologize if this is irksome!_ **  
**

* * *

 **Brynjolf**

After spending the remainder of the evening catching Larehil up on Silver's life events-as far as Brynjolf knew-they parted ways in hopes that they would be able to sleep. It didn't take long for sleep to curl its tendrils around his mind, once his head had hit the pillow. He drifted in and out of dreams about Silver and Ulfric. When he woke, he had a layer of sweat and a dreary, groggy feeling as if he hadn't slept at all. Brynjolf brought a hand to his face and massaged his brow and temple with his thumb and forefinger. It was going to be a long day. He deemed it unlikely that he would see a real night's rest until he knew Silver would be safe.

Before leaving his room to grab a decent meal in the Ragged Flagon, Brynjolf collected his knapsack and began packing it up with items he had caught a glimpse of in Silver's bag when they were headed to the Dwemer ruin. He began with the basic ingredients for health potions and then the herbs and spices used for cooking on a journey. He packed with the assumption that Silver would need an ingredient she may have been unable to pack for one reason or another.

With each item he put in the knapsack, his anger with Ulfric grew. The damned rebellion leader was going to bring hell unto Skyrim with his selfish pursuit of the Dragonborn. Brynjolf buckled the lid of the knapsack closed and lifted it onto his back. He paused as he stood over his bed. He looked around the room one more time, double-checking for items he may have overlooked.

In the corner of his room, perfectly balanced against the wall was the bow Silver entrusted to him in the ruin before Nocturnal had pulled him away through the shadows. As if it were fragile, he lifted the bow and examined it closely. It had a faint green and red glow, running through the small lines of wear and tear of the dragonbone bow like visible shadows of veins hidden beneath the surface of aged skin. It was warm to the touch and Brynjolf took some comfort in it. In a way, it was as if he took hold of her hand or when he has caressed her cheek; the bow held her presence. After momentarily basking in the slight warmth, he released it and took the knapsack off of his back to place the bow there.

He securely attached the bow to his back using an equipment belt that usually housed his sword. With some adjustments, the bow fit snugly beneath the knapsack. As he had no plans to use the bow, he did not need the weapon to be easily accessible. The bow wasn't his first choice in a weapon, but ensuring that Silver had one available would no doubt make her feel more at ease. His daggers, on the other hand, were hidden on the inside of his upper arm and one on his thigh. His own paralysis-enchanted dragonbone sword (courtesy of Silver shortly before she had left the guild) sat snugly secured in his belt.

With a final scan of the room, he decided that he was fully prepared for the journey. He exited and locked the door, heading to Vekel's bar. As he sat, he realized that his appetite had left him and he found that even water had a peculiar, foreign taste. Abnormally, Vekel was nowhere to be seen. It was too early for him to be up, Brynjolf assumed, although Tonilia was up and tending to a new shipment of armors for the guild.

Brynjolf shared a nod of acknowledgement with Tonilia as he left, heading to the Bee and Barb. As expected, Keerava was near the desk, still cleaning from the night before. No doubt that many of Riften's citizens went to her bar for answers and gossip about the dragon attack.

"Keerava," Brynjolf's smooth voice echoed through the empty inn, "where is the Stormcloak leader staying?"

Keerava put her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes at the thief. She knew she wouldn't get him out of her hair until he had an answer to his question. "He's on the last room to the right on the second floor."

"Thank you, lass," Brynjolf placed a Septim on the counter as thanks and headed for the stairs. He approached the door and immediately noticed the two small spikes of wood sticking out from the door. If Larehil hadn't told him about what had happened, he would've easily overlooked the two marks. Gently, he ran an index finger over the marks. They looked no different than two oddly formed splinters. Pulling his hand back, he curled it into a fist, and he pounded on the door three times.

"Wake up, _Jarl_!" With a sarcastic tone, Brynjolf emphasized the last word and took a step away from the door with a deep frown.

Ulfric opening the door, looking as prepared for travel as Brynjolf. He wore a thick cloak, with a mixture of steel and ebony armor beneath it. There were two swords on his belt and kept one bag over his shoulder that protruded oddly from his back with the cloak covering it. "I trust you're ready to leave?" Bynjolf questioned.

Ulfric gave no answer. Instead, he moved forward and proceeded to descend the stairs. Brynjolf followed closely behind him. In silence, the pair headed toward the horse stalls located just outside of town. It was no surprise to Brynjolf when they found that Larehil had already mounted her horse. She was looking over her shoulder at them. Her hair was down; it fell just above her shoulder blades and her Bosmer skin was pale. He doubted she had gotten a wink of sleep. Her heavy cloak kept all but her gloved hands covered and her horse had several pouches full to the brim. He wondered how she managed to buckle the saddle bags closed.

"There is a clearing north of Riften that I will use to try and summon the Dragonborn," Ulfric finally spoke. Brynjolf wondered how long it would be until he started bossing the two thieves around.

Brynjolf's anger had to be brought into check. Quarreling would only prove to be a hindrance. "How is a clearing going to help you summon the Dragonborn?"

Ulfric mounted his steed as he responded, "I can try summoning her with the same name the Greybeards use for her."

Larehil and Brynjolf exchanged a weary glance. While the Nordic traditions honored the Greybeards and the Dragonborn, it would be an understatement to say that Brynjolf was out of touch with customs. He knew of the legends around Akatosh and the Dragonborn, but he knew nothing about the Greybeards' unique customs and the Voice. He had heard the stories of Ulfric tearing the High King of Skyrim apart using only his voice. Stories had a tendency to inflate after being told across the lands of Skyrim, but after meeting Silver and witnessing the power of her Voice, he believed the story of Ulfric and the High King.

Rather than blindly running around to try and find Silver, it would be best to try the summons, Brynjolf mentally decided. Larehil seemed uneasy with Ulfric's claim as he voiced it, "It'll be similar to when the Greybeards summoned the Dragonborn?"

Ulfric nodded. He pulled the reins to move his steed in the direction he desired. The three set off, following Ulfric toward the north.

Looking over his shoulder, Brynjolf gazed at the lake they were leaving behind. Peeking through the wood was Golden Glow. With the morning mist wavering from the surface of the lake, it gave Golden Glow an eerie appeal. He hadn't accompanied Silver as she had ventured through the mercenary-ridden estate, but he had followed her to ensure her safety.

She had breathed fire. Between the screams for help and embers in the air, Brynjolf saw a more animalistic side to his beloved Dunmer. No longer had he treated the story of Ulfric killing the High King as a piece of an exaggerated tale. Seeing the half dozen men mowed down by a flame erupting from the Dunmer showed him the truth behind the story. Since then, he held a wariness around Silver and tried not to dwell on her being the Dragonborn. She had never disregarded the title, but she had never flaunted it either. Having that much power made him wonder if it ever burdened her. Their current predicament, Brynjolf silently concluded, meant that she did feel she had an obligation to fulfill because of the Voice. Collecting all of the Words ensured that no others would find them. If someone like Ulfric could get his hands on the power, he would abuse it.

Brynjolf and Larehil were witnessing the abuse of power. Emerald eyes lazily fell on Ulfric's back. This man was willing to put a person into a slave-like position in order to get what he wants. It made Brynjolf's blood boil. His grip tightened on his horse's reins as he thought through several different ways he could have maimed the nuisance. What kept him from murdering the wannabe High King was that Brynjolf had no idea of the impact it may have on Silver. If she were stuck as a dragon forever... Brynjolf felt a terrible lump in his stomach, unable to complete the thought. It was a chance he wasn't willing to take.

"If looks could kill," Larehil muttered. Brynjolf scoffed, keeping his sight fixed on the swaying blond hair of the large man in front of them. "Bryn, I know you want his throat, but it'd be best to set that aside until we have the Dragonborn."

Finally, he looked to his apprentice, still bearing his scowl. "Aye, lass," he agreed angrily. It didn't stop him from imagining the scum's head on a pike, however. Turning his gaze back to Ulfric, his brow relaxed and his expression softened as his mouth fell into a neutral line. As much as he wished to murder Ulfric, Brynjolf could hear the ghost of Silver's voice pleading him not to. If Ulfric died, the Stormcloak rebellion would likely become stronger and gain a replacement as a leader. If it were that easy, the Dark Brotherhood would eliminate every up and rising rebellion leader.

"There you go," Larehil smirked as his expression released the scowl. "Ulfric will summon the Dragonborn and we'll all be on our merry way."

Brynjolf looked to the Bosmer, her golden eyes glinting like a pair of freshly polished Septims. "If only it were that easy, lass," he flashed a sad smile.

To their right, the forest thinned and they were able to see a moderately sized clearing. In the middle was an elk, peacefully grazing. It picked its head up and looking in their direction. Ulfric had stopped and began dismounting the horse. Brynjolf and Larehil followed Ulfric's actions and they tied their horses loosely to some trees a small distance away from the clearing. The Voice would no doubt startle them and returning to Riften by horseback would be much faster than walking.

As they approached the center, the elk ran away, leaving the trio to their task. "How exactly does this work?" Brynjolf questioned as he looked to the sky, following Ulfric to the middle of the clearing. Unlike yesterday, it was a clear day with no clouds in sight.

Ulfric motioned toward the path they had just walked on. "Move back. The Voice will cause the ground to shudder."

Larehil and Brynjolf obeyed. His heart hammered in his chest as Ulfric's head tilted upward. With a sharp inhale, Ulfric shouted to the sky.

" **DO VAH KIIN!** "

The Voice brought Brynjolf and Larehil to their knees. When the shaking stopped, they eyed the skies. "Will she be sane?" The question seemed more rhetorical as he didn't expect Ulfric to know the answer.

After what had felt like an eternity, the thieves stood and Ulfric turned to face them. Brynjolf hadn't seen the man look as disheartened as he did in that moment. He couldn't help but wonder if it was because the man had just lost a prized possession or he may care for Silver's well-being. Larehil impatiently asked, "How do we know if it's working?"

Ulfric looked back to the sky for a moment before meeting Larehil's contemptuous gaze. "There is no doubt that she would feel a pull from the Voice. Whether she chooses to follow the command it implies is up to her."

Awkwardly, the three shared nervous glances from each other, to the path, and to the open forest. With a forest full of timid creatures and bears that tend to run from loud noises, Brynjolf expected no other terrors besides the dragon they were attempting to summon. He ran a hand through his beard, "Does it get stronger each time you use it?"

Ulfric didn't answer. Instead, he turned away from them and threw his Voice to the skies in a second attempt to summon Silver.

" **DO VAH KIIN!** "

Almost immediately, they heard a response. Brynjolf and Larehil steadied themselves but he felt a quiver crawl through his bones. Within seconds, they heard Silver's vast wings beating on the wind. As the sound grew louder, Brynjolf's heart beat faster. Finally, they could see her slowly approaching as a nearly invisible white speck, wings stretched out as she glided on the wind. Again, Silver cried out as she descended and stopped, hovering over the forest. She stared down at Ulfric, Brynjolf, and Larehil. Silver hesitated before smoothly descending to the clearing. The three stepped back, closer to the wood, ensuring that they wouldn't have to worry about her crushing them.

When Silver's wings touched the ground, Brynjolf took a few steps forward. Silver snapped her head toward him and growled. He stopped, taken aback by the hostile attitude. "We're here to help you, Silver," he assured her softly as he brought his hands in the air, signaling that he meant no harm. She growled with more ferocity and curled her head back, turning her neck into an "S" shape. Her lips were curled back, bearing her jagged teeth. He lowered his hands to his side and assumed a neutral stance, "We can't help if you don't talk to us."

"Dragonborn," Ulfric called before she could answer, causing her head to point in his direction. Her growl's volume grew as she lowered her head to be level with Ulfric's eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but Silver cut him off in a voice that sent a shiver down Brynjolf's spine.

"Wretched man! You haven't the slightest idea what you've done. Because of you, I have possibly doomed Paarthurnax to an unjust death," she growled. She brought her head back toward her body and angled her head downward, as if to emphasize that she now looked down upon him. There was a long pause before she continued, as if contemplating her choice of words carefully. "Cast that Word on me and free me from this form," she spoke slowly, giving them a terrifying look at the doom that could await them in her mouth. Silver appeared visibly unsure of her decision as her weight shifted and head moved downward.

"I told you not to go to Paarthurnax," Ulfric argued. Brynjolf looked at him incredulously. Silver has just returned and he greets her by reinforcing his demands? Brynjolf's lips curled down into a deep frown.

"It seems she had no other choice," the thief attempted to defend her. He looked back to Silver and took another step forward. His hand was grabbed and pulled back causing him to nearly lose balance. His gaze flew to meet Larehil's, silently asking why she had pulled him away as his brow creased. Larehil's eyes were glued to the majestic beast before them. Looking back to Silver, he stared into her intense, beaming eyes as her nostrils flared. Yet in her eerie stillness, he didn't see a dragon in those eyes. Before him was a woman who was hurt and in pain.

"Silver-"

Silver snapped her teeth viciously at him and looked back to Ulfric. "Stay out of this, Brynjolf," she growled in a low voice. She had enough time to yell Ulfric's name before another dragon's cry rang through the air. Brynjolf felt a chill to his bones as he looked to the sky. A large, spiky black mass grew closer from the horizon. It continued to grow until it was close enough to see the dreadful spikes that lined the hellish figure. Alduin had chased the Dragonborn. Brynjolf pulled his hood up and slowly backed into the wood in an attempt to hide. Larehil followed him.

Silver's attention moved to Alduin. "Ulfric," she warned.

"We can do this with you in this form." Ulfric's stubbornness caused Silver to curse.

* * *

 **Tullius**

The angry cry of a wyrm caused more of an uproar amongst the small of group of soldiers that Tullius had selected to accompany him for the trip. There had been a report of a dragon trying to make a home out of a cave within the mountain on the other side of Solitude. Of course Elisif chose to send Tullius and the best men he could select. All garbed in heavy ebony and armed with the finest ebony weapons, they headed toward the dragon's dwelling.

It had been a week-long hunt before they had brought the beast down. They had scheduled a caravan to arrive a few days after them in order to collect the body. Tullius wasn't sure how the Dragonborn did it, but he recalled seeing her wield a bow made from the bone of the winged pests. If the smiths could figure out how to work the scales and bone the same way the Dragonborn did, then his army would be that much closer to ensuring the defeat of the Stormcloaks.

It didn't take long for the dragon to be grounded and killed. Unfortunately, they lacked the soul-stealing powers of the Dragonborn, but he was just as determined to tear the beast apart. A week after the kill, him and his men had returned to Solitude and received plenty of rewards from Elisif for a job well-done. Tullius sat in his quarters, hunched over his desk as he combed through the pile of papers that had accumulated within the short time of his absence.

Out of the stack of perhaps a hundred pieces of parchment, he found the last bundle of ten documents to be the most interesting. He had purposefully saved them for last as war was no longer a priority. They were accounts and reports from his spies on Ulfric and the Dragonborn. He was surprised at how few reports there were, but it was relieving to see an update. By the final piece, he had an eerie discomfort sitting at the bottom of his stomach.

Tullius had read up to the time Ulfric and the Dragonborn arrived in Riften. Leaning back in his chair, he put his hands on the armrests and squeezed.A while ago, in an attempt to convince Ulfric to stand down from the war, albeit lowly and conniving, Tullius had bluffed about the Dragonborn joining him and had sent Ulfric more letters with what he would consider confirmation of her joining the Imperials. He had considered the possibility of Ulfric taking out his anger and frustration on the innocent Dragonborn, but the wedge in trust would likely keep her from being able to join him. It seemed to be the opposite occurring based on the reports, he thought with a deep frown. The Dragonborn had joined the Stormcloaks and that meant that the war would likely meet a bloody end once it continued.

He stood from his seat and began pacing his room. The Thalmor would benefit from the Dragonborn's actions and Ulfric was continuing to play into their scummy hands. Tullius paused his steps and brought his hands to his temples, massaging them.

"General Tullius! We've received word of dragon activities increasing in the Eastern holds of Skyrim!" Legate Rikke barged into his room with the news. He immediately corrected his posture and stopped his pacing in order to receive the news formally.

One of the hawks from the Rift must've just been received, he internally scowled. Rikke continued, "The black dragon from Helgen was spotted approaching Riften when this hawk was sent."

The citizens of the Rift would possibly be annihilated and the damned dragons traveled too quickly in order for him to possibly organize an evacuation caravan. "Do we know if the Dragonborn is still located in Riften?"

"We do not, sir. However, there was also a report of a dragon landing in Riften and nearly crushing a house."

Tullius brought a hand to his mouth. Was the Dragonborn attracting the dragons? As she was fated to battle Alduin, if the damned beast knew of her whereabouts, he presumed that it would seek her out and end her. When the treaty was signed and created, he hadn't deemed the dragons too much of a threat as long as they were prepared for them. Tullius had deemed Alduin's terrorizing of Helgen successful only because they were not ready to combat the beast.

However, after he and a small force had taken down a dragon outside of Solitude some time ago, he watched it take to the sky the following day. The beasts were immortal unless the Dragonborn slayed them and stole their soul. He had hope that the dragon he had just slain would not recover as it was dismembered for resources. All that had remained were aged bones and some scales after he had once witnessed the Dragonborn kill one. At the time, he had thought nothing of letting her collect the few prize items left that she ended up making into valuable armor and weapons. The remains were removed and auctioned to local merchants and aristocrats.

As Legate Rikke stood before him, his hand still covering his mouth, he realized that this was not a situation he could put under his control. He did not consider Skyrim's citizen's his own and he did not owe the Rift refuge as they were under Stormcloak territory. He removed his hand from his mouth and spoke firmly, "we will wait for another report. If we do not receive word within one week, arranged a hawk to see Ulfric and see if he needs aid for the injured."

Rikke's lips formed a straight line but they uttered no protest. She turned and left to carry out his order as after a nod. No doubt she was doubting his judgement, he thought as he watched the door close softly behind her. She was never one to show temper, only loyalty and blind agreement. It was both her best and worst quality. He turned toward his bed, staring at it. Sleep would be the wiser decision, he thought. The hunt and journey for the wyrm had been long and tiresome. Executing commands in his exhausted state would result in bad decision-making and risky behavior. He dared not put more of his recruits in danger. Tomorrow would be a new day and hopefully bring news of Riften's demise or survival.


	17. Chapter 17

_I have to thank you for your comment, brotherben8932. I'm writing this for myself, but your comment made me feel really good about it because character development is something i always felt my stories lacked. My characters seemed two-dimensional and shallow, no matter how much life i tried to breathe into them. Comments like yours make authors like me, those with no confidence in their writing, feel great. I smiled all day when I saw that comment. Thank you!_

 _With that said, I feel like I need to apologize for these chapters. I do the best I can to get my visions across and sometimes it feels like they aren't quite what I want them to be. I will get better, I hope!_

* * *

 **Tullius**

"Do we have news of Riften?" Tullius leaned toward Rikke. The two renowned soldiers stood at the bottom of the stairs leading up to where Elisif sat in the Blue Palace's court, tending to her daily matters before opening it to the public.

"No, sir," Rikke responded hastily. "Our archers spotted a scuffle in a clearing, but nothing else. Apparently two dragons were squabbling but took flight before it was investigated. I have not heard anything else on the matter."

Tullius reflected on her report for a moment before nodding. "Very well. Return to your post. The moment you hear of any updates on the issue, report to me immediately." It had been three days since he had first heard of Alduin heading for Riften.

Rikke nodded and left the castle. Tullius ascended the steps and took his place beside Elisif. He was well-rested and prepared to attend the court, but time seemed to slow within the political bubble. The activities and topics were typically mundane and made for an uneventful day.

That was until an apprehended man, held by two guards, was brought to the court and forcefully kept on his knees. Tullius stared the struggling man down as Elisif gave her trusty general a nervous glance. Matters such as these still made Elisif uncomfortable.

"You may speak before the Jarl Elisif," one of guards commanded of their prisoner.

The prisoner's eyes moved from the stone floor to the Jarl. His clothes were tattered and consisted of burlap and simple cloth, but he had a thick fur cloak resting on his shoulders. Tullius could hear the wretched high elves from Radiant Raiment criticizing the man's outfit in the back of his mind. The man stopped struggling and the fire in his eyes dimmed ever so slightly.

"The Dragonborn," he started softly, betraying his harsh expression. "She can turn into a dragon."

It took a moment for the news to sink into the court audience. Elisif's nobles glanced between each other as their brows furrowed. Many of them had seen what became of a dragon when the Dragonborn was close to the remains, but none of them had seen her turn **into** a dragon.

"State your proof," Tullius demanded. It would be up to him to interrogate the prisoner publicly as the rest of them had been thrown into a stunned silence. It sounded like a folktale, and if it were true, there wasn't much to worry over.

The prisoner stammered and stuttered, but the words eventually fell out in a comprehensible statement, "Ulfric Shouts at her, the same way he did the High King and she turns into a beast."

The court erupted into chaos.

"I thought we had a peace treaty!"

"Ulfric has moved behind our backs! He will attack with not only his men, but a dragon! We cannot beat that!"

"We must summon the Greybeards! They must explain this dragon madness!"

Tullius was taken aback. His stomach turned to lead as he felt it sink. His frown turned into a scowl as the prisoner averted his eyes to the ground. The man looked weary and Tullius could tell that this was not the first time the tattered man had uttered those words. Tullius looked to the guards restraining the prisoner.

"Where did you find this madman?" The general's voice was low, causing the guards to begin nervously glancing between each other.

"We found him outside of the pub last night, shouting this news. We held him over night and asked him what he knew once he sobered up."

"Give him another day in the cells and feed him bread and water. He may still be delusional." The prisoner was brought away after a moment, and the court began to quiet. There was comfort taken in the possibility that the man could be insane or still under the influence of alcohol. The court didn't think to verify the story before jumping to conclusions and mayhem.

Tullius took a long, sweeping look over Elisif and her crowd. There was a lot of work ahead of them, and for now it would be in their best interest to keep the calm and disprove the story. If it did prove to be correct, Tullius would prepare his army immediately. He would not let the news of the Stormcloaks harboring a dragon discourage his troops, let alone destroy them. They had killed dragons before, and the Dragonborn would be no different, be it in the form of a mortal or dragon.

"Thank you, General Tullius," Elisif spoke, effectively silencing the stubborn whispers of the court. They were beginning to respect her, he noticed. Tullius met her gaze and nodded solemnly.

When it came time to have a mid-day meal, Elisif and Tullius brought their food to one of the Blue Palace's studies deep within the castle. It was secluded and would allow them to have a conversation without the worry of intrusion and eavesdropping. Tullius absentmindedly pulled a book from the shelf and read the title as Elisif took a seat at her desk.

"What if it's true, General Tullius?"Her voice quivered. Tullius wondered how Torygg had chosen a woman who was easy to frighten and back into a corner. If Tullius were as corrupt as some of her nobles, he could've been running Skyrim through her, turning her into a puppet. He placed the book back on the shelf and partially turned toward her, just enough for eye contact.

"If it is, then we will need to provide more weapons and armor to the soldiers for protection against the beast," his confident statement seemed to give the Jarl some relief. "When the dragons first invaded, it was certainly a shock. Now that we know what to expect, they are easy to take care of. The only dragon that poses a threat would be Alduin, because he can revive a dead dragon still in possession of its soul."

"The Dragonborn can take souls, so what could stop her from doing the same as Alduin?"

Tullius turned back to the shelf and pulled another book down as if it held the answer to all of their problems. "We won't know that until we fight her." He was not the type of person to worry about what could happen. He would prepare for it and if it did, he would not be caught off guard. If the enemy held a surprise, then they would be the likely victor. So far, Tullius had played the role of defense, and it had been working to buy his army time while picking off Stormcloaks. Meanwhile, he knew of the Stormcloak troop movement pattern, and had a general estimate of their numbers. Before the treaty, Tullius was sure that he would've won against the Stormcloaks.

"My main concern is the Dragonborn choosing to accompany Ulfric," Tullius added more quietly. "She created and conducted the bargaining in order to accomplish the peace treaty. She was always adamant about keeping her word, so I wonder how this all transpired," his voice trailed as he replaced the book on the shelf and pulled another down.

"That is true," Elisif agreed in a small voice. Although the Dragonborn had never chosen a side, she had worked hard and eventually earned the title Thane of Solitude. Elisif and the Dunmer had conspired closely together until the Dragonborn pursued the Words more aggressively. Elisif knew and was close to the Dragonborn, or at least she had thought so. When Silver declared that she would be working with the Greybeards to defeat Alduin, Elisif was disappointed.

She chuckled, causing Tullius to turn toward the Jarl. "When Elenwen had thrown a party more for diplomatic matters, Silver had approached me and asked to help her create a distraction as she wanted to leave the party unnoticed. I had realized the moment after the scene and her escape, that more guards began appearing for the duration of the event. As the party was coming to a close, the attendants panicked as the building had caught fire. There were no injuries or deaths, but most had already drank their fair share in wine. Elenwen shrugged off the incident as someone being reckless after a few drinks, but I knew better. Silver had done something."

At the beginning of Elisif's retelling of an event, Tullius repressed an urge to sigh and stop listening. As Elisif went on, he realized that as much as the Dragonborn wanted peace, she had also been the main cause to the political chaos. Of course Elenwen had thrown a tantrum in his office the following day of that party. She had demanded that Tullius and his men find the culprit and apprehend them. Tullius had tried to blame it on the drunken party members but Elenwen insisted that no drunk could've done the vast damage, not to mention the stolen prisoner files.

Elisif shifted her gaze from the plate of food to Tullius. Her steely gaze pierced him with determination as she spoke, "There is no doubt in my mind that Silver caused that mayhem. However, the Dragonborn rarely involves herself in those matters. I believe she had good reason to venture into the Thalmor Embassy."

Tullius and Elisif locked eyes for a few, long moments. Tullius sighed and turned away, shelving the book he had just taken down. He turned back to her, and crossed his arms over his chest. "What I recommend to you, Jarl, is that we do our best not to interfere unless Ulfric comes charging at us."

Elisif only nodded. She stood from the desk and collected her untouched plate of food. "I do trust your word, Tullius, and I know what the citizens of Skyrim think of me. They think that I would become the Empire's puppet. With how much I rely on your council, I'm beginning to think they are correct."

Tullius watched her as she left the study, unsure of how to interpret her words. The door closed behind her and her footsteps eventually faded away. He clicked his tongue and moved toward the window overlooking the Solitude harbor. Elisif had much to learn if she chose to take the position as High Queen of Skyrim, but she was trying to think for herself and that was what made Tullius lenient on her. She didn't have Ulfric's my-life-for-my-home attitude, yet she showed that she did care for Skyrim whenever she had to make a public statement.

The sound of a bell ringing through the castle alarmed him of court resuming. He left the study and returned to the court. After court concluded, he had plans to go and see the new prisoner. In his mind, there was no doubt that his soldiers throughout Solitude were already aware of the news and it would continue to spread like wildfire.

* * *

 **Silver & Ulfric**

"To the eyes, you are a _dov_ , but you cannot deceive me," the hellish dragon gave a throaty laugh as it hovered over the clearing, looking down at the silver top of the Dragonborn. She defiantly returned his gaze as he continued, "Paarthurnax thought he was clever, staying behind and try to give you time to escape. My old brother is not as gifted as me, however."

Brothers indeed, Silver thought, the two enjoyed hearing themselves talk. Silver's mouth opened slightly, and she felt Ulfric place a hand on her neck, as if to stop her from Shouting at Alduin. The beast laughed again and shook his head, "It would not be wise to engage in combat with me, Dragonborn," Alduin's voice dripped venom as he repeated her title in disgust. Those were the last words Ulfric understood before the dragons fought.

Silver began her Shout once more, attempting to cast fire upon Alduin, but he beat her to it. In that moment, Silver understood the dragons' battles. Alduin threw ice shards at her, yet she had heard a demand, "Tell me how you became a _dov._ " Their conversation would be more than Words and Shouts. They would be dangerous threats that promised doom if they were not skillfully rebounded using the Voice. It would be a dangerous conversation.

As she had the epiphany, she nearly neglected shielding Ulfric from the ice. Bringing a wing over the Stormcloak in order to hug him close to her body, she successfully protected him from Alduin's Voice. "Ulfric, you will run," she commanded in the mortal tongue, still staring at Alduin. The ice felt like a burn against her wing, but she showed no sign of discomfort. It was not a fatal attack, only a flimsy threat. Her first priority was getting Ulfric, Brynjolf, and Larehil out of danger.

Relief allowed her tense muscles a second of relaxation. Ulfric fled into the woods without another word, following after Brynjolf and Larehil. She hoped they would help keep him safe as she wasn't sure how to return to being a human. Briefly, she watched him leave. Once gone, she focused on Alduin, growling ferociously as fire warmed her belly and throat.

"I'm under no obligation to tell you," she responded, embers warming her lips. It wasn't until her tongue touched the roof of her mouth that she noticed her words had left her lips in the language of the dragons. The Greybeards would be proud, she remarked mentally.

As Alduin opened his mouth to speak, Silver interrupted him, "I will end you." Her morbid promise was followed by her abrupt launch from the ground, leaving a small crater in her wake. She flew toward Alduin, summoning the flames aching to leave her throat, wings beating ferociously against the air.

"You cannot beat a god," Alduin responded in a low growl, nearly drowning in the sound of Silver's wings. Lightning crackled in the air, accompanied by embers and ice crystals as his words left his lips. All of the elements traced his breath as he spoke to Silver.

Silver winced and received the blow head-on to avoid damaging her wings if she attempted to avoid it. The fire rolled from her body no differently than a stream of water moving around a boulder. The ice and lightning, however, clung to her body stubbornly. The elements made her feel lethargic. Regardless, her flight did not slow. Silver barreled into Alduin. Two dragons fell from the sky, struggling to untangle their necks, legs, and wings in a way that would give one an advantage. As they struggling for dominance, they growled and promised to be the death of the other, causing the air around them to quiver from the powerful Words.

Silver's teeth found flesh as they broke through the flexible scales of Alduin's wings in a sickening crunch. Her tongue was greeted with a flavor akin to a mixture of ash and dirt; it was a taste so foul that her reflexive release overpowered her need to keep a hold on him. In her confusion, Alduin untangled his tail and wings from hers. Pushing her into the jagged rocks of a mountain side, Alduin used the momentum to steady himself, hovering in the sky. With a loud crash, Silver's back landed against the side of the mountain, breaking some of the stone that met her scaly armor. Silver felt the pain of the impact, similar to having the wind knocked from her. Air refused to fill her lungs, causing her to gasp repeatedly.

"You are not the first dragon to taste a god," Alduin growled, hovering in the air above her. "It is the taste of sin and deceit. Befitting for one who pretends to be _dov_."

Silver curled her head toward him in order to hold his gaze. Her tongue tingled as it tried to get rid of the foreign taste, making it feel numb. "Today you will die, _Dovahkiin_ ," Alduin's words were followed by a purple haze. It engulfed her body and made her feel weak immediately. She knew that Shout and had used it on enemies when they were difficult to defeat. She had been marked for death. It would only be a matter of time until it would take one blow to finish her.

Her eyes widened as she heard the familiar buzz of an arrow. Looking toward the origin of the arrow, Silver saw Larehil wielding a bow with wide, fearful eyes. Alduin laughed, only to be met with Silver's curse, "Alduin, do not turn your gaze from me!" Silver launched herself from the mountainside, marking him for death while his attention was diverted. Alduin avoided her and snapped his teeth at her in frustiation. The Words hit him and enveloped his body in a purple glow exactly like Silver's. Growling, he turned his attention back to Larehil.

"Do not interfere, mortal!" His voice was deep and commanding in the dragon tongue. Ulfric felt the ground shiver.

Fire followed Alduin's Voice, launching toward the Bosmer thief. Silver yelled out a protest as she spun in the air to face him, promising to extinguish his flame with a gust of wind. Silver's Words summoned a cyclone, which intervened the flames, veering them off of their intended path and causing a chaotic combination of the flame and twister. The cyclone extinguished the fire in an explosion in the sky, and successfully brought Alduin's attention back to Silver. The two dragons stared each other down, silently reassessing their opponent.

Abruptly, Alduin and Silver roared and yelled in the ancient language. Fire surrounded Silver and a combination of lightning, fire, and ice surrounded Alduin. They controlled their elements and threw them at their opponent, furiously battling for the advantage before their marks became too painful. The two beasts weaved back and forth, trying to get close enough to bite or deal damage through the elements. Ulfric, Larehil, and Brynjolf were ducking for cover under the lip of a rock as the ground shook from the intensity of the battle. It was a blessing that the dragons were in the sky; if they were grounded, there was no telling the amount of destruction they would cause the Rift.

"Thieves, go back to Riften and stop the guards from reporting to Tullius," Ulfric commanded, not breaking his stare from the battling dragons. The purple glow that the two dragons had acquired during the battle was growing brighter, and with it, Ulfric worried for Silver.

"You can't tell us what to do," Larehil snapped.

"Lass," Brynjolf hushed Larehil. "We'll stop them. If you don't bring Silver back in one piece, I will not hesitate to murder you and all those in your cause." Ulfric's attention switched to Brynjolf, thankful for silencing the Bosmer.

Brynjolf and Ulfric nodded to one another, a silent deal had been struck and Ulfric had every intention of keeping it as best he could. Protesting along the way, Larehil was forced to flee the scene with Brynjolf. When they disappeared from Ulfric's sight, he turned his attention back to the battle. It was just in time to see Silver fall from the sky, landing with a loud crash, followed by a weak tremor. She had landed in the clearing that had been used to summon her. A cloud of dust followed her landing, effectively clouding the surrounding forest and some of the sky. Ulfric used it as a chance to leave his shelter, and ran toward the clearing.

"Alduin! **JOOR ZAH FRUL**!"

Her Words broke through the dust, clearing some of it away. Silver was lying on her side, the pain was becoming too great from the marked death Shout that Alduin had cast on her. Alduin cried out as he was hit by the Words, effectively grounding him. He was glowing purple as she was, and they found themselves at a stalemate where the next hit would likely be the last. Slowly, she corrected her position to where she was perched, as Alduin was, directly across the clearing from her. Just like two sabre cats eyeing their foe before pouncing, they dared not look away.

In their weakened states, Silver could see that it was only pride keeping him from fleeing, as he had when Silver face Alduin at the Throat of the World. Ulfric broke their staring as he broke through the brush surrounding the clearing. Silver was unsure of how he had gotten over the fallen trees and mounds of dirt kicked up from the elemental quarrel. Alduin reared his head, bracing to turn the mortal to ashes. The panic from her kept her from being angry with Ulfric's sudden appearance.

Before the Shout was thrown at Ulfric, Silver brought a weak cyclone to life, kicking up a large cloud of dust once more. Amidst the chaos, Ulfric's Voice was almost lost. Yet, his Words still found Silver. When the dust had settled, Alduin was the only one in the clearing. He growled and roared in frustration.

"I will kill you, _Dovahkiin_."

Alduin's promise was followed by the sound of his wings lifting him into the air. Like Silver, he would need to recover from their battle. Ulfric watched the black dragon disappear over the horizon of trees before bringing his attention to Silver. It hadn't been more than a day and Ulfric felt an immense relief seeing her bright silver eyes looking up at him. She was in her mortal form once more, thanks to him casting the Shout on her. The dust was a cover for their escape and the small cavern would be good enough cover until they felt safe heading back to Riften.

Ulfric entered the cavern and took a seat on the ground, still holding her. As upset as Silver was at Ulfric for interfering, she was thankful, and the action didn't surprise her. If she were in the same position, she would have done all that she could to rescue him, albeit for the wrong reasons. Silver brought a hand up to inspect the coloring and saw that she still had a purple hue from the mark.

"I warned you," she whispered, looking up at the Jarl. He was holding her with one arm under her knees and the other behind her shoulders. He had effortlessly carried her to their safety and he held her still while he sat in the cavern. Silver made no effort to move. The mark made movement painful and even breathing was becoming a burden.

"I," Ulfric paused, still staring down at her. His brow creased and his lips formed a deep frown. "I apologize, Silver."

His arms tightened and he hugged her to his body protectively. The arm under her knees changed so that it wrapped around her waist. Silver was stunned by the hug. While dressed in only her tunic, the warm embrace was welcoming, but it worried her. The memory of him kissing her to stop her from Shouting surfaced in the mind. She wondered if he had not slept, thus causing him to be delusional. She imagined that he still imagined her as a valuable object somewhere in his mind.

"Are you apologizing for mistrusting me or apologizing for accusing me of sleeping with Brynjolf?"

Ulfric hugged her tighter, "Everything."

Silver relaxed and felt herself pitying him. With what little strength she could muster, she wrapped her arms around him, returning the hug. This would be her new start, she decided. Brynjolf had Larehil and no longer needed Silver. As much as she detested Ulfric for his use of the Voice on her, him helping to delay Alduin's wrath on her made her grateful. "Our trust is broken." Silver brought her hands to his chest and gently pushed, wincing from the effort.

He released her, but kept his hands on her shoulders, "I understand what you're trying to accomplish, Dragonborn. I won't command you, but I'll ask that you allow me to be your comrade in this fight."

As she felt strength returning to her fingertips, she had thoughts of him underhandedly trying to command her through the Voice. "I still doubt you," she responded honestly. "But... I will try to trust you only if you promise to do the same."

They stared at each other for what felt like hours. It was more than an agreement to travel; it was an affirmation of how Silver had sided with the Stormcloaks to begin with. Ulfric was touched that she hadn't immediately shot his offer down, and even more so knowing that she was willing to give him another chance.

She wondered when he had begun to consider her important enough to hold her as intimately as he had. Silver felt as if her decision was confirmation of her giving up on the Thieves Guild and moving on from Brynjolf. As much as she wanted him, she would work to ensure that she didn't rely on him and he would only have to worry about Larehil. Looking away from Ulfric, she put her hands over his and spoke, "We will head to Riften to grab my belongings and then to Whiterun. I just need to regain more strength."

To Ulfric, it was a second chance to gain her trust and show her that he could be trusted and reliable. To Silver, it was giving up all of the contacts she had built during her time in Skyrim in order to fulfill Ulfric's desires. She no longer felt trapped or cornered, but she still felt obligated. Neutrality would no longer be her excuse for remaining elusive; now, she would have to stand and fight them. Closing her eyes and sighing deeply, she admitted to herself the truth. She was giving up and taking the easier path this time.


	18. Chapter 18

**Silver & Ulfric**

Weighed down by the rain, Silver's shoulders ached from the heaviness of Ulfric's cloak as they walked toward Riften. The trail was rough on Silver's bare feet, but she didn't dare break the welcomed silence. The bitter night air chilled her skin, causing her to shiver. There was an emotional emptiness that made her want to wail, and cry toward the sky in frustration. Instead, she focused on the soft sound of droplets hitting leaves a stone. The musty smell of rain and wet wood clouded her senses, making her feel more at ease, despite the ache and pain of her feet and bones.

Looking up from the stony path, Riften was slightly aglow with candlelight in the dark evening. The stone and wood surrounding the city was darkened by the rain, making the warm light appear to be beckoning them from the dark trail. "We'll take the sewers," Silver said softly. She didn't wait for his response as she staggered along, anxious for her feet to step on the soft dirt surrounding the lake shore rather than rocks.

The light rain would prove to be a decent cover for her clumsy noises, and the dark was a perfect cover for getting into the sewer, she reassured herself as they walked off the trail. Despite the chill, Lake Honrich still held some warmth from the summer and autumn months. Slowly and carefully, they waded through the waist-deep water and crawled into the large sewer pipe protruding from Riften's stone wall.

The stench of sewage and rotting food made Ulfric cough as they traversed the pipe. The closer they were to the sewers, the stronger the smell became. Silver remembered the first time she had smelled it too. Her reaction was similar, she recalled with a small smile. The sewer pipe opened into the Ratway below the city, and if they wanted to avoid contact with the guards and other folk, it was their best point of entry.

"Hold on," Ulfric stopped her as he entered the Ratway closely behind her. "I told the thief I would bring you to him," he coughed as he straightened, and his face became a permanent scowl from the stench. Ulfric couldn't read her expression. Her brows were tight as if she were concentrating. Then, her face relaxed, and her lips fell into a tired frown. He could almost feel her wariness, and his eyes stung from exhaustion as it caught up with him.

"Silver!"

Her eyes widened as she turned toward the sound of her echoing name in the sewer tunnels. Her heart hammered from the sudden sound, and her position reflexively moved into one poised for defense. Ulfric took a step away from her, alarmed more by her swift position adjustment than someone calling out her name. He had expected some sort of welcoming or patrol when they arrived, but she did not.

After a moment, her senses cleared and her heart slowed. Blinking away blurred vision, Silver saw Niruin jogging toward her. Hiw voice had seemed foreign, she thought as her body felt heavier than it had only moments ago. Her shoulders relaxed and she began to transition into a normal posture when she winced and fell to one knee. The cloak weighed her down, adding more strain to her weakened muscles. Hours ago, she had felt the tension in her muscles as the sickness had started, and it had caught up to her. Even thinking of moving was a struggle as she closed her eyes.

Ulfric kneeled beside her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, "Can you walk?" He had watched her wince and sway every other step during their walk to Riften and it had taken every ounce of his willpower not to offer a break. Every time he had looked at her, she had the same focused expression.

Her lips were in a flat line, trembling from the strain. She had made it this far, and her body was weak and tired. Her muscles were sore from transitioning between a dragon and human. Whether it was due to her damp clothing or the chill of the sewers, she started shivering. "I cannot," she responded in a whisper. Her eyes dqueezed shut as she tried to concentrate and stand up.

A tickling sensation gnawed at her temples as sweat dripped from her hairline. It was a fever, she concluded, shuddering under the damp cloak. Her breathing gradually became more rapid. Slowly, she lowered herself into a fetal position on the ground. The voices of Ulfric and Niruin blended into incomprehensible gibberish as she lost consciousness.

The cold slowly faded, and warmth consumed her encumbered body. She relaxed and embraced the dream she felt coming on.

"My, my, you've been busy," the priest said softly.

Silver felt groggy and heavy as she basked in the warm sunshine. She was lying on white silk sheets that caressed her skin, causing her to sigh as she basked in the comfort. An unfamiliar warmth touched the top of her head gently. It moved back and forth slowly, and she nudged her head into it. He was rubbing her head softly from where he sat beside her. His hand moved down, combing his fingers through her hair, all the way to the ends. It made her feel like a child, being comforted by a parent.

"Paarthurnax didn't have an answer," the priest said thoughtfully.

"No," Silver replied. Her eyes slowly opened, squinting from the whiteness of the sheets. They were on a bed in the middle of a field filled with lush green grass, under a deep blue sky. A warm breeze caressed her exposed skin as she lay in her tunic. She folded her hands neatly over her stomach, relaxing. "You're just like Ulfric," Silver sighed.

He stopped combing her hair with his fingers. "You compare me with that brute?"

"You gave me a hope to get through this, but there is no way out. Even Paarthurnax had no knowledge of the Word. To you, I am a possession. An item that shows off your pride and accomplishments to your equals and underlings."

Closing her eyes, she wondered why she would want to leave this warm paradise. It was the priest's voice, but she knew the shape of Brynjolf's hand on her head. It was his hand stroking her hair and comforting her. Despite the animosity she held toward the priest, she was calm. It was soothing, and even if she spoke with him for an eternity, she decided that she wouldn't mind if it meant she could stay with Brynjolf.

The Dragon Priest chuckled, "Oh, Dovahkiin." The warmth began to fade. "It is just slightly more complex than that. I look forward to your next visit. Perhaps it will be when you stay."

"I'm not leaving yet," she yawned. The movement stopped for a moment, but then continued.

The gentle breeze and warmth from the hand made her feel content. With a pleasant smile on her lips, she decided to enjoy this dream to the fullest. It was the first time she put up a fight in waking up. This was not the place she had responsibilities and she was free to enjoy Brynjolf's company.

With a soft sigh, Silver pushed against her will to stay. "I will defeat Alduin," she whispered, earning a chuckled from the Dragon Priest. She looked up at Brynjolf, forgetting that it was the priest in dsiguise and smiled, "I will come back to you."

* * *

 **Brynjolf**

Larehil and Brynjolf had returned to the guild as quickly as their feet could take them. When they arrived, Brynjolf stormed into the Cistern and ordered all contact that the guards had with Tullius be severed. His legs and torso ached from his rushing blood and sprinting. He hadn't run like that since he was a teen, scrambling to flee from the wrath of a merchant.

"I don't think there was a need to bring the rest of the guild into this," Larehil reasoned as the thieves disbursed, agitation clear in her tone.

"If Tullius finds out about Ulfric and Silver, then it will place a larger target on Silver's back. She is a valuable asset to the guild," Brynjolf angrily explained to Larehil. She was following him as he headed to the Ragged Flagon.

"Why would it matter? She's not even part of the guild," Larehil argued. "She can take care of herself. She hadn't wanted the guild's help in gods only know how long. Then here she comes, needing help as if she's an old friend. So why-"

"Enough!" Brynjolf shouted as he stood, ready to walk through the wardrobe. "Don't question me on this matter, lass."

He walked through the wardrobe, not paying her anymore mind. He had enough of a headache. "Delvin," he yelled as he rounded the corner to the bar. Delvin, Vekel, and Vex, were the only thieves left once the others were sent on their task.

"Yes, Bryn?" Delvin's calm demeanor struck a nerve in Brynjolf.

"Stop being so damn calm and take care of spreading rumors about the dragon. Make sure there's several different descriptions of the dragon floating around to cause confusion."

Delvin knew better than to offer a joke with Brynjolf in a sour mood. He departed without a word, leaving Vex and Vekel.

"You two will stay here and keep an eye on things while I start a patrol around the Ratways. Silver will likely return to Riften through the sewers."

Vex and Vekel nodded as Brynjolf headed for the entrance to the Ratways. He stopped at the door and turned to see Larehil behind him.

"Stop following me," he growled.

"You didn't give me something to do," she growled.

"You're going to prepare the medical supplies for when Silver gets back," he snapped.

He opened the door and slammed it closed before she could protest or follow. His hand rested on the knob briefly, and he prayed that Larehil would do as he demanded. She had a point in saying that Silver was no longer a member, but in terms of business, she was still a valuable client. His mind quieted as it dawned on him that his connection with her was not considered business-like in any fashion.

There was no use in trying to tie it to business, he thought as he scoffed at the realization. Brynjolf cared for Silver, and he wanted her to return safely more than anything else. He assumed others in the guild would feel the same way if they truly appreciated her efforts in defeating Mercer. However, there would be no excuse great enough to excuse his trying to think for the rest of the guild. For a brief moment, he felt shameful of his actions. Silver had been part of the guild at one point, but she no longer was, and he needed to address where his priorities were between her and the guild.

Hours had passed in the blink of an eye as he had walked every path he knew of that connected with the outside of Riften's walls. At one point, Niruin and Rune had bumped into him, and they had created a patrol pattern. Dread steeped into his worry until Niruin's call for him brought a familiar hope to his aching bones. As fast as he could, he ran to where the voice came from, a feat only achievable by those who lived in the Ratways long enough to call them home. When he rounded a corner, he saw a mop of silver hair on the floor with Ulfric, and Niruin kneeling beside her.

Niruin's hand was on her cheek, and he looked up at Brynjolf with an eerie calm. "She has a high fever. We need to get her back to the Cistern."

"Niruin, run ahead and warn them. Ulfric and I will carry her there."

Niruin stood and left the two to take care of Silver, as Brynjolf has instructed. Thief thief and rebellion leader shared a glance before focusing on her. Brynjolf kneeled where Niruin had been and placed a hand on her shoulder, quickly removing it when he felt the dampness of the cloak. The cold water on his palm sent a shiver down his spine.

"How long were you in the rain?"

"We waited until the cover of night before heading for Riften. No more than a few hours," Ulfric explained quietly. He placed a hand on her forehead, and Silver shuddered away from it with a sigh.

He thought about removing the cloak, but she would be in a warm bed soon enough. "Help me carry her," Brynjolf insisted as he began moving her onto her back.

Ulfric and Brynjolf supported her, one on either side, her arms draped over their necks as her head lulled forward, hair swaying as they walked. It was in a hall with a door leading to the Cistern where Brynjolf finally set his pride aside to articulate his thoughts.

"Thank you, Ulfric, for returning her to the guild." He kept his eyes focused on the door, occasionally glancing at Silver.

"I'm a man of my word," Ulfric responded softly.

"I assume you'll be staying until she's well?"

"Yes. She plans to pursue Alduin, and then I will finish this war."

Brynjolf pushed the door open as soon as they reached it. Niruin was anxiously waiting for them, eager to retrieve Silver, "Give her to me," he urged. Brynjolf, more willingly than Ulfric, had relinquished control to Niruin. He brought her to his room, the only one that could be closed off from the rest of the Cistern, and left. Larehil entered shortly after Niruin and slammed the door behind her.

Brynjolf grimaced. He had preferred Vex, Tonilia, or Sapphire to look after Silver, but they were busy with other tasks. He looked to Ulfric, who was staring at the door with a hard stare. "You can stay with the guild until she's well," Brynjolf offered, despite the anger simmering beneath his skin.

"Thank you," he responded simply as Rune approached them.

"All of the outgoing communication was stopped, but one had gone through this morning," Rune explained.

Ulfric looked to Brynjolf, his furrowed brow demanding answers. "Perfect. Let's try to keep those letters from reaching Tullius until later this week. Then, for 3 weeks after, I want our best thieves checking letters and removing any hint of the guild and Silver."

Rune nodded and jogged toward the Ragged Flagon entrance. Brynjolf placed a hand on his hip as a smile curled the corners of his lips. The guild had come a long way since Silver had left and it made him proud.

"It appears that I will be indebted to you," Ulfric mumbled as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"No," Brynjolf returned Ulfric's harsh gaze as he spoke. "You are indebted to Silver. If not for her condition, I would have slit your throat the moment I saw you."

Ulfric smirked. "You think that I wouldn't be able to kill you first?"

The thief crossed his arms. "I won't be baited into a cock fight. While you stay with the thieves, you will respect the guild and any rules we present to you. The first rule being you are not allowed to see Silver without someone accompanying you." It took everything he had to refrain from returning Ulfric's cocky smirk. Ulfric was in his territory, and Brynjolf could change the rules of the game as quickly as flipping a coin. Ulfric had no pull in the sewers of Riften.

Ulfric's smirk faded, and was replaced with a more neutral expression.

Brynjolf continued as he turned away, "Sapphire will retrieve any belongings from the inn and pay your fee. You'll be staying with the rookies, here in the Cistern. I suggest you make yourself comfortable and try not to make any more enemies. You'll be here a few days."

He walked away, not caring to hear a response from the rebellion leader. Brynjolf walked along the Cistern's edge and leaned against the wall beside the door to his room, where Silver lay. With his arms crossed, he looked to the entrance of the Ragged Flagon and saw Ulfric disappear behind the door. Just like a Nord, Brynjolf thought, Ulfric would be off to drown his misgivings and anger in mead.

The soft click of his door was almost drowned in the sound of the Cistern's running water. Larehil emerged, holding a bucket half-filled with water. She looked over her shoulder and her sharp eyes locked with Brynjolf's.

"She's fine." She moved the bucket to rest on her hip as she turned to face him and closed the door. "Her fever subsided as soon as I took the cloak off. Her breathing is very shallow though," she brought her free hand to her eyes and rubbed them.

"Then, I'll see for myself." Brynjolf pushed himself off of the wall and put a hand on the door knob, unable to open it until she moved. Larehil hesitantly took a step to the side. He shared one more glance with her before closing the door and looking at the woman in his bed. Niruin was hovering over her, checking her temperature with the back of his hand once more before looking at Brynjolf.

"If you asked me how she was doing the moment you brought her to the cistern, I would have told that I didn't expect her to make it through the night. But here she is, as if nothing happened within minutes."

"Thank you, Niruin," he said quietly. "I'm glad she'll pull through and that she had you to take care of her."

Niruin smiled for a moment before his lips curled into a deep frown. "There is something terribly wrong with her though. It seems as if her body is attacking itself. One moment she's doing fine, and the next she is teetering on the edge of death."

"What can we do for her?"

"Nothing," Niruin sighed and looked at the Dragonborn. He put a hand on Brynjolf's shoulder, "I just thought you should know. She is fine now, and that is what matters."

"Thank you once again. I'll take it from here."

The Bosmer chuckled, "Of course you will. I'll leave you to it."

Brynjolf sat on his desk chair, which was pulled up to the side of the bed. One of her hands was free from the blankets and he took it in his hand. It was warm. Lacing his fingers through hers, he leaned forward and brought the top of her hand to his lips and planted a soft kiss on it. His elbows rested on his knees as he felt the callouses on her fingers. The faint smell of lavender and mint lingered on her fingertips from dabbling in alchemy. It was a smell that made his lungs feel refreshed. For the first time in ages, Brynjolf felt relief. He was happy to have Silver home, even if she didn't see it as one.

"I missed you," he sighed. Gently, he put her hand down and switched his gaze to her damp hair. It looked like a polished steel bar in the candlelight. He remained that way for what felt like hours, taking turns praying to each of the Divines and occasionally Nocturnal.

"Brynjolf..."

Her soft voice startled him. "Yes?" When their eyes met, he was more surprised to see her smile. It was a peaceful expression that he had never seen her wear.

"You're so cruel," Silver's voice cracked, and with it, Brynjolf felt his heart break. She was in a terrible state.

"Hey now," he responded gently with a smile. He leaned over her, placing a soft kiss on her forehead as he playfully asked, "What did I do to deserve that?"

Silver snickered. He moved away slightly and they locked eyes. Startled, he fell back into his chair, "Your eyes."

Her smile faded quickly and she slowly sat up, innocently questioning his statement, "My eyes?" She stared at him, and his stomach tightened.

"They weren't... normal," he hesitated. The abnormal color he saw faded from them and was taken over by the piercing silver. For a moment, he had seen bright, purple eyes that sent a chill down his spine. They stared at each other as her brows furrowed. He was dumbfounded by the change, until something clicked.

It wasn't that Nocturnal had abandoned her. It was because Nocturnal no longer had a hold on Silver's soul. When Ulfric used the Shout on her, something happened on a level that Brynjolf would never be able to comprehend. It was a mystical world and entirely out of his reach. A sinking feeling of dread pooled in the pit of his stomach as he realized that as much as he wanted to free Silver from the power of the Shout, he would be unable to. This would be her battle, and hers alone.

"I was scared for you," she said softly, breaking his concentration. She looked down at her lap where her hands were open with palms toward the ceiling. Her hands were shaking. She continued, "Alduin would have killed you all, if he weren't so focused on me."

"It's best not to think about," he reassured her and placed a hand in hers. "You will come face-to-face with Alduin soon. Do you still think you can't defeat him?"

Silver looked at him, determination etched into every feature, "I am." Her hand clutched his as if her life depended on it. "Alduin will be dealt with. It's what may come after that worries me more."

Brynjolf was taken aback. "You can kill beasts ten times your size, but the thought of facing the war bothers you? Lass, I think you need to do some more thinking," he chuckled.

"I need to speak with Ulfric," Silver said, not showing any endorsement of his humor.

Reflexively, his hand clenched. Ulfric, he thought, the man who captured her and controlled her? "You want to be alone with him?"

She squeezed his hand in response, "After him, then I can speak with you."

"What is there to talk about with him?"

"He wants to go with me to kill Alduin. I have plenty to discuss with him."

"If that's the case, then you have plenty of time to mull things over while you travel to Whiterun." He pulled his hand away.

Brynjolf leaned back in his chair and folded his arms as she glared at him. He sighed and shook his head slowly, "We need to talk, Silver."

They could hear a pin drop in the room. Lungs tight and heart racing, he felt nervous. The silence and aloneness they had in that moment would likely be the last moment of peace between the two of them until Alduin's defeat and the end of the war. He switched his gaze from the suddenly fascinating bedsheets to her eyes. Her glare was replaced with a look of concern, egging him on.

"You and I," he paused. It wasn't how he wanted to start it. What if she didn't want anything to do with him after Alduin is defeated? "I need to know whether or not I should expect you to be by my side."

Her lips parted, as if begging to say something her lips wouldn't let through. "Your side," she echoed quietly. Every move she made caused his lungs and stomach to tighten, expecting the worst from her. "But what of Larehil?"

"Larehil?" His stomach dropped and his voice raised in tone slightly.

"Larehil? Your apprentice?" Her brows were knitted together, taken aback by his lack of acknowledgement.

"What does Larehil have to do with this?"

Silver's voice started as a determined statement and faded into a question, "You're... lovers?"

His brows shot up, and his mouth fell open, "How?"

Flustered, Silver looked to the door, her hands fidgeting restlessly in her lap. "That's a question for you to answer, not me."

"We are not lovers," Brynjolf quickly denied. She looked at him, surprised. "We had a misunderstanding, but I have no interest in my apprentice."

Silver's frown deepened. Watching her eyes dart to and fro with a worried expression sent a shudder down his spine. It was the same look she had when he met her in Mercer's manor, searching frantically for a clue on his whereabouts. It was a look of distrust, and his blood chilled.

"I wouldn't lie to you," he said slowly.

Ringing consumed his hearing until she finally spoke. "You... want me by your side?" Her head was slightly bowed, giving her a sheepish look.

"More than anything."

Again, they locked eyes, hers wide with shock. He couldn't stop the sad smile creeping over his lips. Despite the hint of warmth thawing his frozen gut, he felt the iron ball in his stomach sinking. Suddenly, what felt like millions of questions flooded his mind regarding how they would interact if she rejected him.

"I love you," she whispered. As soon as the words left her lips, her hands flew to her mouth and covered it.

When the initial shock wore off, Brynjolf cracked a wide, childish grin. Jumping from the chair he brought his hands just below her ears, gently pulling her toward him. His movement surprised her, causing her hands to move to his chest. His thumbs stroked her cheeks as he deepened the kiss, parting his lips and engaging in a dance with her mouth.

As they unleashed their tension, he moved over her until one knee was between her thighs and the other by her hip. His mind was going numb as the her scent consumed him. It was sweet and made him feel like he was in a meadow. They were tangled in one another, and the clothing between them suddenly felt like a large, daunting wall. His hand moved down to her waist, slowly sliding to her hip where he started bunching up her tunic to remove it. She placed a hand over his, silently asking him to stop.

She pulled away, and bit his bottom lip softly as she did, causing him to groan. The ache his body gave him was a result of impatience, akin to when he was a child and wanted candy. He wanted everything from her and he wanted to enjoy her company intimately. He pulled away to admire her, putting both hands on either side of her head to hold him up. The flame seemed to move with her sighs as she recuperated from the kiss. Her breaths were shaky,and he was reminded that she was ill moments ago.

He leaned down and pressed his forehead against hers. She snaked her arms around his neck and pulled him into a hug. Naturally easing into the hug, they rolled onto their sides, cuddling into each other.

"You don't know how long I've waited to do that," he said softly, in a low voice.

She was staring at him with an expression he burned into the back of his mind. It was contentedness; her lips fell into a relaxed smile, and her brow was free of any crease. At the same time, it was a happiness that only a sense of security could grant. In that instant, he was sure that she had forgotten the world's burdens on her shoulders and enjoyed the moment.

Her eyes shot up, meeting his in a frenzy. Her smile fell and she sat up, staring at the door. Brynjolf sat up with her, "Silver?"

"Get back in your chair," she hissed at him and he did just that as quickly as he could.

As soon as he did, the door slammed open with a loud crack as the knob collided with the stone wall. Standing in the doorway was Ulfric, still clad in his armor.

"Dragonborn," he greeted unceremoniously with brows furrowed, and scowling as he saw Brynjolf.

Brynjolf could see it on his face with the way he glanced between Silver and him. Ulfric wanted a moment alone, and he was determined to not allow that. He looked at Silver and was surprised to her appear stoic. He expected anger toward Ulfric, at the very least.

"Ulfric," she responded, mimicking his cold tone.

"You didn't tell me she was awake, thief. I had to hear it from that Bosmer." Ulfric practically spat the last word out, as if it were the most disgusting term in his vocabulary.

Brynjolf felt a chill. Larehil likely didn't give that information easily. "Please," Brynjolf urged in a light tone, ensuring that it reflected the same amount of disdain toward the man, "Do tell me how you managed to make my apprentice speak to you."

"Brynjolf, give us a moment."

He didn't look at her. Instead, he kept his eyes on Ulfric, "If you dare make a move to harm her..." His words were low as he promised Ulfric's throat would meet a fine steel edge.

Brynjolf left Ulfric and Silver, closing the door behind him as he went. It wasn't until he had taken a few steps that he felt offended by being kicked out of his room. Damn rebel, he thought as he moved toward the Ragged Flagon. When he arrived, he saw Larehil at the bar holding a mug, her other hand was on the counter with a bandage on it as she stared idly beyond the bar. Brynjolf took a seat beside her, perched one elbow on the bar and turned toward her.

"What happened to your hand?"

Larehil rolled her eyes, "You sound like a parent getting ready to scold a child."

His brows lifted, urging her to answer his question.

"I had an arm wrestling match with Ulfric. He won," she grumbled.

"Ah, that must be how he knew Silver was awake. Which brings me to my next question. How did you know she was awake?"

Larehil's eyes were glued to her mug. "I went to check on her and heard you both speaking. So I came out here to drink and forget what I heard."

Brynjolf looked at the bar countertop as Vekel placed a mug filled with mead in front of him. "You'll need it," he heard Vekel mumble before walking away. Taking it in his hand, he took a gracious gulp from it.

"I hate Silver," Larehil whispered.

"The color or the person," Brynjolf chuckled. He was coming to terms with the fact there was nothing he could do for her. If he offered comfort, she may take advantage of it, or mistake his intentions.

"Don't be an ass," she hissed. She slouched over the bar, crossing her arms on the surface as she leaned forward. "I thought I would have more time with you."

He felt a hole burning in his temple under the heat of her gaze. She was angry, and he didn't blame her as he had been in her shoes before. He kept silent and let her vent about her frustrations.

"I was working on getting over it, you know. I was almost there, and had been taking long trips, until you had kissed me. Then, it all came rushing back with vengeance. My heart is so broken… So broken, that it's hard to breathe at times."

It was disgusting, he thought. Her words reminded him of when Silver had kissed him and left. It had taken him a few weeks, but he knew of the pain Larehil was going through. He understood that she would be dreaming of the moment he may come to her, or an evening of thieving and mischief mixed with mischievous flirting.

"What makes her so special?"

Although it was a rhetorical question, it crept under his skin. There were several reasons he had, and none of them were based on her being the Dragonborn. The thought reminded him of Ulfric and sent a pang of anger and jealousy through his gut. His lips pursed and he took another gulp to keep his tongue and lips from moving unnecessarily.

The two thieves sat in silence, mulling over their thoughts and what could happen over the next several days. Brynjolf barely noticed when Ulfric joined him at the bar, sitting next to him as if they were old friends. He couldn't tell if the warmth coursing through his veins was due to mead or anger.

After two mugs, and nearly an hour, Ulfric grumbled, "Silver asked that I pass on our agreement to you. You may accompany us on our journey to Whiterun. She has asked to take you in as a mercenary, and I agreed."

Brynjolf didn't have more than his half-mug of mead. He didn't want anger to overpower a conversation that may require civility. It was a decision he appreciated in that moment. He held back a scoff as he spoke, "That was kind of you."

Ulfric shot him a glare, "Do not make me regret that decision, thief."

"I would never," Brynjolf fixated his gaze on his mug and swirled what was left of its contents.

"There are rules," Ulfric growled. "You and her are not to converse privately. If either of you try to flee, I will find you both and kill you. Should you threaten me, that threat will also be applied to Silver."

Had the mug been made of anything softer than steel, it could have been broken or bent. Ulfric was still treating her as a possession. "Don't forget that she is the only one bound to your Word. If I so please, I will slit your throat. I will give you one rule to prevent that from happening."

They stared at each other, both brows furrowed and mouths turned into deep frowns. Ulfric was about to protest, but Brynjolf had a feeling that he was trying to keep the Dragonborn as compliant as possible since she had escaped as a dragon.

"And what would that be?"

"She is a person. Treat her as such."

When Ulfric didn't respond, Brynjolf took it as a hint the conversation was over and left the bar. Larehil was resting with her arms acting as a pillow on the bar, giving the appearance as if she were sleeping. When he didn't see her shoulders rising and falling with calm, even breaths, he knew that was wrong. She was pretending to sleep but listening to every word. Perfect. Brynjolf gave her shoulder two gentle pats, a sign they had used early on in their apprenticeship.

He left the bar and headed for the alchemy table in the Cistern. On a lidded wooden crate, filled with wine bottles and hay, he took a seat and waited for Larehil. Not twenty minutes later, she found him.

She switched her balance to one side, tilting her hips as she crossed her arms and stared down the bridge of her nose at him. "What do you need me for?"

Brynjolf couldn't hold back his smile. She was frustrated with his feelings, and sometimes she was harsh, but she was loyal. "As you know, Karliah is gone, and I will be going to aid Silver. That leaves the guild in yours and Delvin's hands."

She nodded. It was an agreement that him, Larehil, Karliah, and Orroc had discussed in depth. While Vekel, Vex, Delvin, and Tonilia had seniority and would help with the political matters, Orroc and Larehil were being groomed for becoming the next generation of the Thieves Guild leaders. He had faith in her and trusted her judgment, despite her hot-headedness.

"Do you know when you're leaving?"

"Likely tomorrow, but we'll be going either before dawn or after the bar rush."

With all the information she needed, Larehil turned away. Based on the way she hesitated taking her first step away from him, he could tell she was hoping for a different ending to the conversation. He watched her go, as his smile turned into a frown and he felt a pang of guilt in his chest. Someday, he thought with a sigh, someone will come in and do her heart justice.

For a moment, he lingered by the table, leaning back against the stone wall. His shoulders sagged and his eyes stung from exhaustion. It was a feeling he was all too familiar with. He was absorbing what Ulfric told him; his mind repeated the words over and over again.

When Silver was well, they would leave and make their way to Alduin, and Brynjolf wasn't sure of how he could aid her. Would he be watching in the sidelines, just as he had in the ruin? The memory of Ulfric commanding Silver to unmask him from the shadows, made his blood boil and an involuntary shudder ran down his spine. He scowled as he knew he would be unable to run from a situation such as that again. Just as he had threatened Ulfric, he would need to be clear with her on how he wanted to be involved.

It took all of his energy to get to his feet. He made his way across the Cistern and entered his bedroom without knocking. When he saw her lying in bed, her back facing him. The memory of their recent kiss flashed when he blinked, removing any trace of anger from his very core. A crooked smile broke his frown as he crawled into bed with her. Putting an arm over her waist, he slept on the outside of the covers as she cuddled against him reflexively. He planted a soft kiss on her ear before falling asleep.

* * *

 **Silver**

The warmth against her back made her uncomfortable. It reminded her of Ulfric sleeping with her to keep an eye on her, but she was cold and moved toward it instinctively. It made her feel trapped and anxious. She turned to look over her shoulder, but the darkness kept the identity a secret. When he sighed, she recognized the low hum. She froze and felt her skin heating up. She was in disbelief, repeating the same three questions to herself.

 _Did that really happen?_

 _Am I dreaming?_

 _Have I doomed him?_

As if answering her mental anguish, Brynjolf's arm tightened and pulled her in, "I'm here, lass."

Silver's mind quieted and for that brief moment she was at peace. She had Brynjolf, the only person of value in her world. It was all that mattered. Alduin could set the surface ablaze, and Ulfric could ravage the land, but all that mattered to Silver was that she lay in this spot, feeling safe and comfortable.

Although hours had passed, it felt like minutes until Brynjolf moved to get up. He left a kiss on her cheek as he moved away. It was dark in the room, since it lacked windows and the candles had died long ago. Brynjolf lit a new candle and Silver turned over to watch him. He was dressed in a simple worker's white shirt that fit his torso loosely, displaying his collarbones, and with sleeves cutting off just before his elbows. His trousers were simple pants made of a noble's cotton. As he walked to his wardrobe, she heard the soft pad of his feet.

"Don't go," Silver said before she could rationalize it. The bed was cold without him.

She almost missed his candlelit smile before he spoke, "You're coming with me. I have a spare Thieves Guild armor set in here. It'll have to do until you get your armor from your home."

Her heart sank. Alduin had to be killed before another run-in happened. A cold hand squeezed her heart as she thought of Brynjolf being killed by the beast.

Her reluctance made her body feel heavy and unwilling to move. When her feet touched the stone floor, she expected a chill, but her bandaged feet kept them protected. She approached Brynjolf and he handed her the armor. Her eyes lingered on the armor, reminding her of the time Tonilia had given her one as well.

"I'll speak with Sapphire and Tonilia about getting you some shoes. I'll be right back."

As she looked up at him, he met her lips. Suddenly, the room didn't seem so cold and the bed was looking awfully comfortable, but only if he joined her. The tension keeping her shoulders and neck stiff disappeared, and it was replaced with a warm comfort that spread from her chest.

Dropping the armor, Silver wrapped her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss. His arms snaked around her waist and when he pulled away, he hugged her tightly. She pressed her face into the crook of his neck and inhaled deeply. The smell made her arms and legs prickle as she developed gooseflesh.

"Silver," his low, husky voice whispered. Leaning forward and lifting herself up with her toes, she pressed her lips against his neck. She felt him shudder.

"I'm not the one on an urgent mission," he chuckled.

Slowly, and reluctantly, they separated and Silver picked the armor up, hugging it to her chest. "If I had it my way," she started, but hesitated. Looking up at him, she saw his sad smile and she reflected it with her own. "I don't want to leave here, but I know we must. Before we deal with Ulfric, and Alduin, I need you to know that this… this is all I've ever wanted."

The way his smile widened and his eyes squinted, Silver could see his happiness. "We will get there," he assured her. "For now, let's get you where you need to be."

With a kiss on her cheek, Brynjolf left her to change. It was a struggle to change as her body was sore and felt heavy. As Silver finished fastening the final belt, she heard a knock on the door, followed by the click of the doorknob. Larehil opened it all the way, allowing light from the Cistern to brighten the room.

"I don't know why Brynjolf likes this room so much. It's always dark," she scowled.

Silver didn't answer. She watched Larehil carefully. Her gut was twisting as she thought of the night Larehil had left her in the bathroom of the manor. The Bosmer had lied, and clearly loved Brynjolf dearly. Yet, it wasn't Larehil's admiration for Brynjolf that made her uncomfortable, it was something else. Something that Silver couldn't put her finger on.

"I get it," she scoffed. "You think you're better than me. Well, that's fine. You can have him. While you guys are off playing hero, I'll be here keeping the business running."

Silver's lips twitched. There it was. The guild was not a home for Larehil, but rather a job. She averted her gaze to the boots and made her way to them as she argued with herself. Larehil was taught by Brynjolf, a man who viewed the guild as a business; her view was evidence of his influence on her thinking. She remained silent, but her eyes followed the Bosmer.

Larehil crossed her arms, "Right. Brynjolf said to meet in the Ragged Flagon once you're ready."

Silver arched a brow as she watched Larehil leave the room. Putting on the boots, Silver followed after her and went to join Brynjolf.

As expected, on the far side of the cavern where there was an entrance to the Ratways, Brynjolf and Ulfric stood, talking nonchalantly. From afar, Silver admired the redhead. His brow was relaxed and his mouth formed a bored frown. Whatever Ulfric was saying, it was going in one ear and out the other. It made Silver chuckle.

On her way over to them, she was greeted politely by several of the thieves and Delvin gave her a wink, earning a smile from her. Ulfric was the first to notice her, and acknowledge her presence.

Ulfric and Silver exchanged a cold greeting and headed out with Brynjolf trailing behind them.


End file.
